A Little Unbroken
by trifectaimperfecta
Summary: The story of how the misunderstood dreamer, the attention seeker with a secret, and the outcast-turned-social butterfly became what was known as the Unholy Trinity. It begins when Brittany and Santana are twelve and follows the journey all the way to senior year. Pairings: principally Brittana and Faberry.
1. Prologue: What Lies Buried

The world had lost its color. Outside, the sky's hues ranged from faded black to a ghost of gray like charcoal smeared across a blank canvas. Grass on the lawns of all the nearly identical houses had become lifeless and brittle. The air itself seemed to hold its breath for the oncoming season while the intermittent winds gave a warning of the chill yet to come. Winter was on its way.

Inside the Lopez family's home, Santana curled her legs a little closer to her body and snuggled deeper into the baggy hoodie that covered her torso. Her dark eyes squinted at the text of the book in her hand and worked to focus on the next paragraph. Without her reading glasses, all the letters blurred at the edges but she refused to cross the cold foyer in her bare feet and ascend the stairs to her room. She rationalized that this was just as well since someone might spot her embarrassing eyewear through the window and so she continued to muddle through without it.

When she was prepared to move on to the subsequent passage, Santana attempted to turn the page but her hand slid uselessly along the edge. The twelve-year-old sighed, licked the tips of her fingers, and tried again. Her skin had been inexplicably dry all day and made a grating, sandpapery sound each time she rubbed her palms together for warmth. Now it was keeping her from escaping the dullness of the day by freezing her at that exact moment in her novel, holding her motionless in the story so that she could not move forward.

That was when the faint noise came from outside. It was indistinct and distant but her gaze found the source immediately. The dual clicks had come from the echoing report of closing car doors. Two men were walking away from the vehicle and up the drive toward the cement porch. As they passed the yellow ribbons tied to the front pillars, Santana's vision at last brought them into sharper detail and provided an insight into the visitors' identities. Stoic faces, erect posture, and stiff uniforms – soldiers.

For a fraction of a second, Santana was convinced that her blood stilled. Her face went ashen and she forgot to breathe. The book clattered to the floor and slammed shut after it dropped from her slack hands. Then she rose onto unsteady legs and went to answer the bell they had already rung. In her mind she was running but a removed part of her consciousness was dimly aware of how her steps had become leaden and labored.

Santana's hand trembled violently as she turned the handle. She did her best to concentrate on the message she knew the men were going to deliver but their voices couldn't reach her ears. It was all a weak reverberation like sound trying to cut through water. Swift shadows flew across her vision and suddenly she was on the floor with her mother crying overhead. The world's volume abruptly restored itself and then that noise was the only thing in existence - just a wretched, sorrowful wailing.

Her numbness settled over her like a protective blanket. The funeral could not touch her because she was simply too far away. The one thing she could sense was her best friend Brittany's hand in hers while they lowered the casket. Santana had insisted that the other girl be allowed to stand beside her the entire time for support.

No other feeling returned until a week later when she went into her brother's room for the first time since he had gone. She brought Brittany with her just in case it proved too overwhelming to face on her own. They entered the abandoned space with baited breath and an involuntary shiver ran down their spines. All the memories still hung so heavily in the air and clung to personal effects that had once belonged to a central figure in their lives.

Brittany settled gingerly on the carpet beside the bed and tugged her knees up against her chest. With a shaky but inviting smile, she beckoned for her grieving friend to join her. Then they sat side-by-side in the silence with only their knees touching and just remembered.

In her hand, Santana clutched the letter her sibling had written to be delivered in the event of his death. She had seen the hurt in her parents' eyes when they realized she was the only one to receive such a final message. The special goodbye was a treasure beyond description but, for that very reason, was one she could not yet bring herself to open.

So she stowed the envelope in a drawer of his desk where she knew no one would find it. Then she reached out for Brittany's hand and they left the empty room behind them. Santana pulled the heavy door toward her and, with that final snap, shut away all mention of what she had lost.


	2. From the First

Time always seemed to pass so slowly in the summer. When it was over, everyone would complain about how quickly the months had passed but, to Brittany, each day had the potential to hold a year's worth of activity from the break of dawn until nightfall. From the moment she awoke, her mind tugged her in at least fifty directions at once and it was merely a matter of deciding where she wanted to start.

This particular day, however, was different from the rest. Today she was going to cheer camp. She was so full of excitement that she could hardly sleep and awoke before the first birds trilled their early morning songs. Brittany climbed out of bed, padded toward her window, and opened the curtains to a pale gray sky. Her blonde hair fanned out across her arms as she knelt and leaned against the windowsill to watch the sunrise.

Brittany's blue eyes danced with wonder as the first crimson glow appeared along the horizon. It was followed by a brighter, warmer orange that sharpened the silhouettes of the houses and trees. Then the glowing golden orb at last ascended and with it the sky came to life in puce, amaranth, and lavender. The twelve-year-old regarded its progress with a broad grin and was delighted by how the sun's touch painted the world like a page from a coloring book.

Gradually, the rest of the neighborhood stirred and began to bustle with activity. People switched on their televisions to catch the morning news and check the weather. Cars pulled out of their open garages and set off for work, grocery shopping, and trips to the park. Somehow, even those mundane routines seemed fascinating as Brittany mentally counted down the minutes until her impending departure. She became so involved in her observations that she jumped slightly when a knock sounded at her door.

It opened a crack and she was surprised to find that it was not her mother, but rather her best friend, who had come to tell her it was time to go. Santana slipped into the room and gave Brittany a little wave as she shut the door behind her.

"Hey," Santana greeted. "Today's the big day, huh?"

Brittany's face lit up and she beamed.

"Santana!" she exclaimed happily. "What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to come say goodbye," Santana explained.

She barely finished her sentence before the wind got knocked out of her as Brittany rushed across the room and embraced her tightly. Santana's eyes closed while she leaned her head against her friend and smiled.

"I am gonna miss you so much," Brittany murmured into her shoulder.

"No you won't," Santana countered, trying to laugh. "You'll be too busy having fun."

"I'll write to you," Brittany insisted.

"You'd better." Santana pulled away from their hug. "Now, where's the stuff you're taking with you?"

Her brown eyes fell on the two bags beside the door. She picked up the backpack, slid both arms through the straps, and then hoisted the duffel in front of her.

"I can take something," Brittany protested. "You don't have to do all that."

"It's okay. I want to. Just get the door and lead the way." Santana panted under the weight of the load.

Brittany complied and the two made their way downstairs. Santana carried her friend's belongings out to the car and put them on the backseat. They both turned to find Brittany's parents and her little sister stepping outside. Mrs. Pierce held her younger daughter's hand while they walked toward the driveway. Mr. Pierce swung a ring of keys around his index finger.

"Are you ready to hit the road, Bumblebee?" he asked, affectionately ruffling Brittany's hair as he crossed to the other side of the vehicle.

"Almost," Brittany replied.

She hugged her mother and crouched down to embrace her sister.

"I'll see you when I come home, Katy," Brittany said. "Try not to get too much bigger while I'm gone."

The three-year-old stared up at her with large, bright eyes.

"Back soon?" Katy asked hopefully.

"Just a handful of weeks and then you'll see me again," Brittany assured and got back to her feet.

Then it was time for the last and hardest goodbye. In spite of the fact that she had been keeping her emotions remarkably under control until this point, Brittany felt her eyes rim with tears the minute that Santana's arms wrapped around her waist. She returned the hug as much as she could while still allowing the other girl sufficient space to breathe, and they both stood that way for a few moments.

"Promise you won't replace me?" Santana whispered in her ear.

She disengaged herself from Brittany's embrace and held out her pinky.

Brittany wanted to protest, to tell her that it wasn't possible, but she saw how much her companion needed to hear her say the words. She accepted the extended finger with her own and met her friend's gaze.

"I promise."

"Okay," Santana said softly.

Brittany could tell from the way Santana kept repeatedly gulping mouthfuls of air that she was fighting back sobs. They released their hold on one another and Santana opened the passenger side for Brittany to climb into the car. Once she had slid onto the seat, the door closed behind her. Then Santana walked over and stood with Mrs. Pierce and Katy to wave farewell.

Mr. Pierce pulled out of the driveway and honked the horn as he started up the road. Their family continued to call out parting sentiments from their place in front of the house. While her father switched on the radio and tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, Brittany kept her eyes trained on the rearview mirror and watched what she was leaving behind until it was out of sight.

… … …

The ninety minute drive went much faster than she had expected. Brittany passed time playing road trip games with her father and singing along to the songs that came through the speakers. The miles rushed by in a blur of beautiful scenery and dappled sunlight glinting through the leaves of the trees. In what seemed like no time at all, the campsite came into view through the windshield.

Mr. Pierce parked the car. Then the two of them climbed out and stretched their stiff limbs. Her father helped Brittany put on her backpack and handed the girl her duffel. They checked in with one of the counselors and then made their way to her tent. Brittany observed the surrounding hustle and bustle with an infectious grin.

"Well, I guess I don't have to ask if you're still sure you want to do this," Mr. Pierce remarked. "Do you think you can take it from here?"

"I'll be fine," Brittany guaranteed and stood on tiptoe to give him a peck on the cheek. "I'll see you in five weeks?"

"Yup," he confirmed, clearing his throat slightly.

Brittany watched him with an affectionate smile as he tried to keep his emotions in check. Mr. Pierce met her gaze and shook his head with a laugh.

"Well, I'll get out of your hair," he said. "You don't need your dopey dad getting underfoot."

He kissed her forehead and marveled at how little he had to bend to reach it.

"Stop growing."

"I'll try," she giggled. "I love you, Daddy."

"I love you, too."

Then, with a final wave, he turned and went back to his waiting car. Brittany watched him go and then set to work unpacking her bags. She had more than a month's worth of adventures waiting for her and she couldn't wait to begin.

… … …

_Dear Santana,_

_Three weeks down and two more to go! I'll be sad to leave this place but I can't wait to see you again. I've been learning so much from everyone here. They have some older kids that help teach the younger ones. Each group got two student instructors and ours are named Kara and Gavin._

_Kara is really sweet and super helpful. She's friendly to all of us and acts like everybody's big sister. Gavin is one of the only guy cheerleaders here and I think that makes him a little cranky. A lot of the girls aren't very nice to him. Sometimes they call him E.T. because his eyes are kinda big, but I don't mind him since he's always nice to me._

_I got the letter you sent a few days ago. I'm sorry things are still so crummy at home. If you ever need to get away for a while, I know Mom and Dad won't mind if you go to my house to visit, even though I'm not there. Katy would like that. You just might have to play with blocks for a while or let her 'cook' you something from her pretend kitchen, that's all._

_Well, I'd better go. I can hear them blowing the whistle outside. Write back to me when you can._

_Love Always,_

_Brittany_

… … …

"All right, everybody, break for lunch!" Kara dismissed.

Brittany heaved a sigh and wiped the sweat from her brow. The rest of her group made their way toward the cabin that housed the cafeteria. Brittany knelt down to retie one of her shoes.

"Great job today," a voice commented above her head.

She lifted her eyes and saw that Gavin was standing over her.

"Thanks," Brittany beamed as she dusted off her knees and stood once more.

"Seriously, though. I know everyone's been working extra hard this week; still, I'm really impressed by how much you've been improving individually. You were kinda lanky and scrawny when you first showed up but just look at you now."

Brittany studied herself with a puzzled expression, unable to see much of a difference. She looked back up at Gavin and scrunched her nose in unspoken disagreement. He chuckled.

"Here," he instructed. "Flex your arm like this."

She mimicked the stance Gavin showed her. His hand settled on her bicep and squeezed lightly. He nodded his approval.

"See what I mean?" Gavin remarked. "Look at this muscle. That was not there when you started. You are gonna be totally beast by the time this summer is over. If you keep up what you're doing, you'll even be able lift me if you want."

The girl took in his diminutive stature and wiry frame.

"I kinda think maybe I could do that already," Brittany responded with a slightly apologetic smile, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

Gavin smirked.

"Yeah, you're probably right. But, hey, don't judge. I may not seem like much but I'm stronger than I look."

He puffed his chest out and straightened his shoulders. Brittany laughed.

"Okay," she conceded with a wave. "I'll see you after lunch, Gavin."

"Yeah, all right," he replied as he watched her walk away. "I'll see you later."

… … …

Brittany was alone again that night. Ever since their first week, her tent buddy, Nadia, had taken to leaving after Lights Out to join her new friends on the other side of the campsite. Brittany was a little sad that they hadn't become close enough themselves to make the Nadia want to stay but she couldn't really blame her. After all, if Santana were there, she would have stumbled through the dark every evening to be with her.

It was fairly chilly outside and the thin walls of the tent did little to hold in any warmth. Brittany snuggled deeper into her sleeping back and tried to stop shivering. She turned over onto her side and curled her knees up to her chest, hoping to utilize her own body heat. Her teeth chattered but eventually her eyelids began to flutter and finally close.

She was just drifting into a dream when she heard a faint snap outside. Her eyes opened immediately and Brittany held stock-still while she strained to listen. There was nothing for a moment, but then the zipper that held the tent flaps closed popped repeatedly as it moved from one tooth along the line to the next. Brittany frowned confusedly and rolled onto her back to look toward the entrance. Had her tent mate gotten into an argument with her friends and decided to come back?

The girl had only a fraction of a second in which the starlight framed the silhouette of the new arrival, but it was long enough to tell her that it was not Nadia. It was a man. Then the zipper was pulled back to its starting point and the cramped space was doused pitch black. She heard the intruder advance the few small steps it took to reach her and felt him crouch beside her.

Brittany's heart pounded painfully against her ribcage. She made no noise as she squinted and tried to discern any recognizable features. However, she wouldn't have been able to see her own hand in front of her face due to the absolute absence of light, so there was little use in her efforts. The figure beside her was panting heavily but the girl found that her own breathing had ceased almost altogether. She was paralyzed with fear.

"Are you awake?" hissed a voice.

She tried to open her mouth to form something – a response, a sentence, a word – but nothing would come out. Her jaw had locked into place. She felt the zipper on the side of her sleeping bag being lowered and her whole body stiffened. The upper half of the bag was thrown aside and there was suddenly an overwhelming amount of pressure on her thighs and hips. With a sickening lurch, Brittany realized that he was on top of her. Finally, she was able to stop grinding her teeth long enough to fill her lungs with air but, before she could scream, a hand clamped over her mouth.

"Don't even bother," the voice told her. "By the time anyone could wake up, figure out where the sound came from and investigate, this would all be over anyway. It will be a lot easier if you just shut up and stay still."

Brittany was inhaling sharply through her nose now. A knee was pressed heavily against her abdomen, pinning her in place. She could feel panic constricting her throat but, when her pajama pants were jerked harshly from her quaking legs, that soon gave way to all-consuming terror. There was a faint rustling and then her underwear was removed as well.

The girl fought as hard as she could to break free from the hand against her lips and the leg on her stomach but to no avail. She screamed against the sweaty palm but then the man's other hand came up and gripped the sides of her neck.

"Don't be fucking stupid," the voice commanded. "I don't want to hurt you, but if you try to get me caught I will make this a thousand times worse."

Brittany's eyes rolled and her nostrils flared as his threat sank in and stilled her movement. She obeyed the stranger's command.

_No, not a stranger_, she concluded. His momentary nervousness at her struggle had made his voice raise an octave and at last she recognized its owner: _Gavin_.

Wildly, Brittany' hand shot out for the small table beside them. If she could just reach the lantern there… Gavin grabbed her wrist and forced the errant limb back to her side.

"Stop trying to fight me," he growled and grunted against her squirming body. "Hold still, damn it!"

The young man held one of her arms down with each hand and forced her thighs apart with his legs. A very loud voice in Brittany's head said to take advantage of her unblocked mouth to call for help but all sound had flown. Pressure and pain erupted inside of her but all she could do was gasp for air as she choked and sputtered. Somehow, she was sure she could feel Gavin's gaze blazing above her, looking down with such stolid indifference that he was rendered almost inhuman.

At last, the weight was lifted and Brittany was left damp and disoriented. The hand returned to her throat and pushed down hard one last time for good measure.

"Don't you dare think about making a sound."

She nodded numbly.

Then he was gone.

Still unable to move, Brittany clamped her eyes shut tightly. She was able to bring some color to the darkness then. Faint squiggles of blue, red, and green shifted and spiraled in the space behind her eyelids. She focused on their almost static-like patterns until she mercifully lost consciousness.

… … …

"Okay, girls, Gavin is M.I.A. today so it looks like it's just gonna be you and me," Kara told the group the following morning. "Now let's go ahead and get started by… Wait a minute. Where's Brittany?"

The other girls looked around them. Nadia shrugged. After a few minutes, they determined that their missing member wasn't at breakfast and no one had seen her since the previous evening. Kara's brow furrowed with concern.

"That's not like her," she commented. "I hope she isn't sick. You guys wait here; I'll go check and see what's going on. Start your warm up stretches while I'm gone."

Kara set off for the tents and counted down the line until she reached the one that Brittany had been assigned at the start of camp. She called out her name but did not receive answer. There was no sound from within but - just to be sure- she unzipped the flaps and peered through the entrance. What she saw froze her in her tracks.

"Oh, God," she whispered.

Brittany propped herself up on her elbows blearily. She squinted in the harsh sunlight, struggling to figure out what was happening. Then it all came back in a rush. She looked down and realized that she had not covered herself after what happened the previous night. The girl tried to at least bring her legs together or reach for the top half of the sleeping bag, but she was too sore to move. All of her joints ached and her limbs felt impossibly heavy. Her eyes swept over the blood and bruising now illuminated so garishly by the light of day.

Brittany's arms gave way as she flopped back against her pillow and started to cry. She covered her eyes with one crooked arm and whimpered. Kara stepped into the tent, closed the flaps, and was at her side in an instant. She stroked the girl's hair and tried to calm her long enough to ask questions, but every response was lost in Brittany's incoherent bawling.

"Shit." Kara wept and rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand. "I don't know what to do. This has never happened before."

She looked around frantically before settling on a plan of action. Gently, she pulled the edge of the sleeping bag over the younger girl's bare legs to preserve her modesty. Then she patted Brittany's shoulder and rose to her feet.

"Wait here," Kara instructed unnecessarily. "I'm going to go get one of the counselors. I'll be right back; I promise. We're going to figure this out."

The shaking girl nodded as best she could. Kara ducked out of the tent and went in search of help. Brittany tried to stay awake until her return, but her eyelids closed against her will and tugged her back into the darkness.

… … …

Everything became disjointed after that. It felt like living inside a flipbook animation that was missing pages. Brittany could only catch fragments of the events that were transpiring around her and, even then, it was always an out-of-body experience.

First, there were the panicked voices of her parents upon their arrival. Brittany blinked and then she was surrounded by at least half a dozen people all pressing her for details. Her mouth was completely dry as she tried to respond and Brittany could swear that, once she did, only dust came out. Somehow, they pulled what they needed from her replies. Brittany faded back into the void again.

When she resurfaced, a cop was telling her mother and father that her attacker had been found in an abandoned cabin beside a nearby lake. He was resistant to arrest but, fortunately, unarmed. According to the officer, due to the nearness of the boy's eighteenth birthday, he would likely be tried as an adult. Brittany had just long enough to feel a rush of relief before life slipped through her grasp once more.

Then there was the trial itself. She was dimly aware that weeks had passed but nothing in that elapsed time would return to her memory, try as she might. It was nearly impossible to focus on what everyone was saying even though some distant, removed part of herself was conscious of the repeated mention of her name. Brittany did, however, see the fearsome hatred and unspoken promises of violence in Gavin's eyes while she testified. She shuddered and her words came out through quivering, uncooperative lips. Ultimately, Brittany had to close her eyes to concentrate all of her efforts on maintaining her composure. However, she could still feel him watching behind her eyelids and soon her entire body began to tremor uncontrollably with stifled sobs.

By some miracle, she managed to tell her tale. She was helped down from the stand. Sometime later, Brittany heard the jury proclaim the defendant guilty but then the hourglass went into free-fall again and the courtroom was gone.

Her family did their best to help and look after her in their own way. She began seeing a psychiatrist but nothing really reached her. Everyone could tell that she had gone somewhere else, a place that nobody seemed able to access. Brittany felt a detached sort of guilt over their wasted efforts. However, she remained unable to keep her attention on the caring words they offered. Worse still, she could not respond in kind to their embraces or general displays of affection. Her mouth seemed to have forgotten how to properly smile and anyone's touch on her skin caused a brief, involuntary flinch.

Then Santana came to see her.

August had begun and the countdown to the start of the school year was well underway. Brittany had been marking off the squares on her calendar, ignoring the dread that settled in the pit of her stomach with each new red X. She was sitting on the edge of her bed with her chin resting on her knees when she heard footsteps on the stairs. They were lighter and more hesitant than either of her parents' and her head lifted as she turned to face the sound. There was a soft knock before she called out for the person to come inside.

Santana entered the room and shut the door carefully. Brittany sat up in surprise. Her instinctive reaction was to be overjoyed at the sight of her friend after being separated from her for so long. Then she remembered what had changed since they saw each other last and her enthusiasm diminished. How much did her companion know? Moreover, how much could she bring herself to divulge?

Fortunately, Santana spoke first.

"I'm sorry if this is a bad time," she apologized. "My dad told me about… about camp… but he couldn't or wouldn't give me a lot of details, just what your dad let him know over the phone. I think your mom and my mom may have talked a little, too, but you know what it's like trying to get any information out of her. All she would tell me was that I wasn't allowed to come see you. She said to give you time and space but I couldn't wait any longer."

Santana perched lightly on her best friend's bed. Her eyes looked fearful as if she thought that Brittany would order her away and demand to be left alone. Brittany wanted to meet her gaze but found herself staring at the other girl's kneecap instead.

"I won't ask you to tell me anything until you're ready," Santana assured her. "I just need to hear it from you: Is it true?"

Upon hearing the question, Brittany looked up at her properly for the first time and it made her chest hurt to see how every inch of her friend's features begged her to say no. More than anything, her companion wanted her to say that wires had gotten crossed and that there was some sort of misunderstanding. Things were not as bad as they seemed. She wished she could give her that comfort.

Brittany gulped and wrapped her arms around her torso. Briefly, she locked her gaze on Santana's and gave a single nod. Santana immediately looked away and covered her mouth with her hand as she tried not to sob. Tears seeped out of the corners of her eyes and her shoulders shook.

Brittany shuffled over until she was beside her friend. She wrapped her arms around the Santana and buried her face in her hair. They stayed seated that way for a while, crying together quietly. Santana's hand gripped Brittany's wrist when she started to hiccup. Brittany pulled away to wipe her companion's face with the corner of her sleeve.

"It's my fault," Santana insisted wildly as her eyes widened. "All through the last couple of months at school, you kept trying to get me to go with you to cheer camp. I didn't think I'd like the other girls but I shouldn't have said no. I should have just gone with you and we could have shared a tent. If you weren't alone, maybe he wouldn't have gone after you. Even if he did, I'd have been there. I'd have… I'd have kicked his ass…"

Brittany shook her head adamantly and held both sides of Santana's face in her hands.

"It wasn't your fault," she insisted. "Don't cry. The important thing is that it's over now, and when we go back to school we'll just pretend it never happened."

Santana stared at her with an unreadable expression. She seemed half-torn between two different emotions, wanting to protest and yet knowing this was how her friend had chosen to cope. Brittany was watching her expectantly and waiting for a sign that she could agree with this decision. Reluctantly, Santana nodded.

"Okay," Brittany said as she got to her feet. "Good."

She crossed the room and looked out the window. Without turning to face her companion still seated on the bed, she tentatively voiced a second request.

"Hey, Santana?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think maybe I could go home with you when you leave, if my mom will let me? Your parents will be at work for a few hours yet, right? Maybe we could hang out while they're gone? I've been in this room for a really long time and I just want to get out of the house."

… … …

With some trepidation, Mrs. Pierce finally agreed to allow Brittany to accompany Santana. They went to the garage, got Brittany's bike, and then set off for the Lopez residence. The fresh air did Brittany immediate good; she felt as if her worries were lifting off her shoulders and floating away on the breeze that was whipping through her hair. A slow, uncertain smile spread across her face. When Santana mirrored the expression, Brittany's grin broadened until it was almost as bright as it had been at the start of that summer.

They reached their destination and entered the spacious, air-conditioned home. Their shoes squeaked on the floor when they stepped into the foyer. Santana supported herself against the wall while she removed her shoes and Brittany did the same.

"We'll have to be careful so my little brother doesn't hear us," Santana cautioned. "He's upstairs for now but we'll never get rid of him if he figures out I have company. You know how he gets."

Brittany nodded. Faintly, she could hear the sound effects from Matyas' video game drifting down the stairs from his room overhead. This was soon punctuated by a frustrated outcry from the seven-year-old as he lost a life and had to begin the level again.

"Come on," Santana urged.

She grabbed Brittany's hand and hurried toward the back of the house.

"If we hurry, we can be outside before he comes down for a snack."

They went out the back door, crossed the deck, and descended the small set of steps. The mid-afternoon sun glinted off the surface of the Lopez family's pool. The girls shielded their eyes against the glare.

"Can we go for a swim?" Brittany suggested as she looked across the cool, inviting water.

Her friend's brow furrowed but she nodded.

"Sure, I guess. You can use one of the suits from the pool house. It's unlocked, so you can go ahead and change. I'll be right back. I'm going to sneak inside and see if I can get my bikini from upstairs without running into the little monster."

Santana turned back the way they came and disappeared through the door. Brittany followed her companion's instructions and went to the pool house. She found a fairly conservative pink one-piece that fit well. Once she had changed out of her clothes, she reemerged and walked to the edge of the water.

Brittany lowered herself onto the cement and allowed her legs to dangle over the edge. She sighed contentedly. The glimmering liquid felt every bit as glorious as it looked. The coolness spread through her limbs and dulled the remaining ache in her now yellow bruises. Brittany knew that she ought to wait for her friend to return, but the promise of that cleansing refreshment reaching the rest of her body was too tempting to resist.

She inhaled as deeply as her lungs would allow and dropped below the surface. Down she sank until her rump hit the cold bottom of the pool. She bent her knees and tucked her feet up beneath her, enjoying the silent serenity of this underwater world.

Brittany looked down at her arms and marveled at how the refracted light skittered across her skin, spreading across the smooth surface like a second series of veins. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine light pumping through her instead of blood. Instantly her shoulders relaxed and she felt an incredible sense of peace. Forgetting where she was, she sighed and let out all the air she'd been storing in her lungs.

Before she even had time to panic, an arm was around her waist and she was being tugged toward the sun above her. Brittany choked when she inevitably tried to inhale and the burning made her throat constrict and her stomach heave. Then she and her rescuer broke through the surface and oxygen finally returned. However, Brittany was unable to take it in, hacking and convulsing as she was. The girl dropped to all fours and coughed violently. An incredible amount of water expelled itself from her body and she dropped immediately onto her back, utterly spent.

Warm hands held both sides of her face. Unsteady fingers pushed her dampened hair back from her forehead.

"Brittany! What the hell?" Santana demanded, her voice shrill and almost hysterical. "You scared the crap out of me! What were you doing down there?"

"I just wanted to be someplace calm and quiet," Brittany explained feebly. "It felt so nice."

Santana helped her sit upright before hugging her roughly.

"Don't ever do that again," she commanded. "I thought I'd lost you."

Her cheek rested against Brittany's shoulder.

Brittany pondered what Santana had said for a moment. Then her eyes widened as she realized what the other girl had thought was happening. She considered assuring Santana that she would never resort to something that drastic; she knew she had plenty of reasons to stay. Instead, Brittany settled for returning her companion's embrace and wrapping her arms around the Santana's back. Granted, her best friend had been more worried about her than was necessary, but Brittany drew comfort from the knowledge that Santana would never let her leave without a fight.

… … …

The week before seventh grade began, Mrs. Pierce returned from shopping with a bag specifically for her daughter. She brought it upstairs and opened it to reveal a dozen prisms on strings. Mrs. Pierce explained that she had loved how they caught the light in the store and thought perhaps Brittany might enjoy having them to brighten up her room. Brittany happily agreed to take them but asked if it would be all right if she used them outside instead.

Later that same afternoon, she went to the backyard and climbed up to the tree house at the top of the solitary oak that grew there. Brittany pulled a small plastic box full of thumbtacks out of the pocket of her jeans. Her tongue curled around her teeth as she deliberated where to put them and scattered their locations across the old, wooden roof overhead. Once they were in place, she pulled the prisms out of their bag one by one and wound their strings around the tacks. When she was done, the small space was positively transformed. It was as if she were dwelling inside of a rainbow.

Brittany stretched out on the floor, warmed by the sun, and watched the colors dance. She was so lost in her daydreams that she almost didn't notice when a faint noise just over the ledge indicated that someone was beginning the ascent to visit her. It was not until a face appeared at the entrance that she was tugged out of her reverie.

"Hi," Santana mumbled when she pulled herself up into the tree house.

"Hey," Brittany returned and propped up on her elbows.

"I brought you something."

"Really?"

Brittany edged over to sit beside her. Santana slid her hand into her pocket and produced a small, wrapped box. She handed it to her companion with a self-conscious smile.

"Here."

Brittany's eyebrows quirked confusedly before she opened the unexpected gift. When she lifted the lid, her jaw dropped and she gasped. Her eyes bulged as she looked up at her friend.

"Santana!" she exclaimed. "How did you get this? It must have been so expensive."

Gingerly, she lifted the silver bracelet to examine it more closely. A shaft of sunlight caught the small hearts dangling from one of the shining links. Brittany gazed at the costly present in complete awe.

"I'm glad you like it," Santana said. "Look, I got one, too."

She held up her left arm to show off the matching jewelry. Brittany locked hers in place around the same wrist.

"So, they're like friendship bracelets?"

"Yeah," Santana confirmed. "But they're more than that, too. They're a promise."

Brittany tilted her head to the side with a perplexed expression.

"I know you've been worrying about going back to school after… after this summer. So I wanted to get you something to say that you're not going to have to go through any more bad times alone," Santana clarified. "You were there for me last year and now I'm going to be here for you. I got this so you'll always remember that I'm around if you need me."

She shrugged and lowered her gaze, clearly embarrassed by her own gesture of affection. Brittany beamed gratefully and threw her arms around the other girl.

"You're my best friend," she whispered into Santana's ear while she squeezed her tightly.

"Same here," Santana replied.

She freed herself from Brittany's embrace and smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle in her jeans. Eager to change the subject, Santana moved over to where Brittany had been reclining when she arrived. They stretched out on their backs side-by-side and looked up at the ceiling.

"I like what you've done with them," Santana remarked as she gestured toward the swaying prisms.

"Thanks," Brittany murmured. "Me, too."

Santana's eyes roamed about the structure and studied its walls after they lapsed into silence. Etched into the wood, she could still see the tally marks from years past, ticking off the days until their next summer vacation. There were marker doodles of animals and crushes' names surrounded by Sharpie-drawn hearts. It was the story of their friendship, laid out in colorful and sentimental detail. She turned her head to one side and looked at her fellow artist, sucking on her bottom lip while she pondered.

Without a word, she reached out for Brittany's pinky and locked her own around it. Brittany gazed down at their hands for a moment with a small smile. Colors glided across their skin, sending fragmented slivers of green, violet, and indigo over their interlocked fingers. A faint sigh escaped Brittany as she returned her attention to the space above their heads.

Time always did seem to pass more slowly in the summer. True, when it was over and the new school year began, Brittany would have more to occupy her thoughts and might finally be able to stop counting every minute as it passed. For the time being, though, each day had the potential to hold a year's worth of pain and flashes of better-forgotten memories. Working toward hope and healing seemed like an insurmountable and unfathomable task. However, nestled there in that safe haven with Santana just a touch away, Brittany felt like it was a journey she might soon be ready to start.


	3. Running in Concentric Circles

"You lose, Puckerman!"

Santana grinned broadly when her score flashed in white across the television screen. She tossed aside the controller in her hands and pranced merrily around the living room, ruffling the boy's hair as she passed. Puck grumbled under his breath while she triumphantly crowed her achievement to an invisible audience.

"That's right, ladies and gentlemen; you were here to witness it. Noah the Xbox Extraordinaire has finally been bested! His previously unbroken record reigns no more. We have ourselves a new champion! What's her name? C'mon, let me hear you!"

She cupped her right hand to her ear and cocked her head.

"_Santana Lopez! Aaaaah!_" the fourteen-year-old rasped for the fictitious crowd.

Puck scowled. He twisted around on the floor to look up at her. Santana noticed his sullen expression and bent down to cup his face in her palm.

"One lucky win isn't exactly an epic victory," the boy groused.

"Oh, poor baby," Santana purred before she kissed his lips lightly. "After I kick your ass a few more times, you won't be such a sore loser."

Incensed, Puck pushed off the floor and scooped the girl up in his arms. Santana shrieked and struggled against his grip. The two grappled with one another until they reached the couch and tumbled onto the cushions. Then their lips touched and all struggling ceased.

The young girl shifted under the press of the other teen's body which, though not heavy, was slightly uncomfortable atop her slender frame. She ran her hands through his dark hair and tugged teasingly at the fistful of curls. Puck grunted against her mouth and his sweaty palms held eagerly onto her hips. He started to ease her thighs apart with one leg. Suddenly apprehensive, Santana balked.

"Puck?" she murmured while pulling away from his kiss.

"What?" he snarled with annoyance. His eager fingers pushed up the bottom of her tank top. He caught a brief glimpse of the white bra beneath before she yanked the gray material back down.

"Don't you think we're moving kinda fast? I mean, we're not even official."

Santana gave him a half coy, half cautious smile and waited to see how he would respond. She was met with the usual groan and eye roll. This was not the first time that the girl had dragged their friends-with-benefits status into the light.

"We've already talked about this."

"I know, I know, but things are different now. You're asking me for a lot more than our former agreement encompassed."

"Smaller words, baby, if you want me to follow you."

"I'm not giving up my virginity to someone who won't even call me their girlfriend," she blurted out bluntly. "There, is that simple enough for you?"

Puck sighed heavily and closed his eyes. When they opened again, he lowered his gaze to meet hers. His fingers played affectionately with the unruly black waves that framed her face.

"It means that much to you?"

She bit her lip and nodded. There was a moment of tense silence while the boy debated his answer. He took a deep breath.

"Okay," the teen exhaled. "If that's what it takes for me to be with you, we can say that."

"We're a couple, then?"

"Yeah."

"And you'll quit going out with other girls?"

He winced before giving a reluctant bob of his head.

"No other girls. But, if that's the case, then no other guys for you!"

Santana snorted.

"Really, Noah. You're the only guy who's ever even looked at me."

It was an unfortunate truth. Her unmanageable mane, less-than-approachable demeanor, and complete lack of social standing had seen to that. _Hopelessly average_, the girl reflected with a rueful smile. Until Noah. After he had taken an unexpected interest in her earlier that year, the general attitude towards Santana was one of respect, if not actual acceptance. The other students now kept their criticisms to a hushed whisper and they stopped all direct attacks on her person. For an unnoticeable girl with an uncommonly loud mouth, it was better than anything she would have dared to expect.

She arched her back to reach Puck's mouth once more both to thank him for his compromise and to push back her unpleasant thoughts.

"So... um...," Puck began awkwardly. "How about now?"

Santana laughed.

"Not yet! Jeez. But soon, I promise."

They kissed again and their mutual moans of pleasure nearly drowned out the quiet sound of the key turning in the front latch. The door popped open a fraction and Santana jerked to the nearest end of the couch with a gasp. The two sat up as casually as they could and fixed their hair when Puck's mom entered the house.

"Hello," the woman greeted them with a smile. "Sorry I'm a little bit late. Did you guys have a good time?"

Santana felt her face growing hot as Puck responded to his mother's question.

"Yeah, we did. Santana beat my high score."

"Did she? Well, good for you, honey! Noah could stand to be knocked down a few pegs."

She winked and shuffled toward the kitchen, her arms laden with heavy groceries. She carefully set them down on the table and began removing the items that needed to be transferred to the freezer.

Puck got to his feet and followed her. Santana tugged self-consciously at her rumpled top and folded her hands across her lap.

"Let me just put these things away and then I'll drive you home," Mrs. Puckerman called in a muffled voice. Her upper body was leaning into the fridge while she scoured for sufficient space for the new goods.

"I'll help you," her son offered and then rummaged through the brown paper bags.

"Thank you, Noah," his mother said. "I certainly appreciate it, although I'm willing to bet this sudden change of heart has something to do with the hot pockets I promised you."

Her suspicion was confirmed as, right on cue, Puck pulled the box out with a triumphant "A-ha!"

Mrs. Puckerman shot Santana a conspiratorial glance and a crooked smile.

"We know him better than that, don't we Santana?" she asked with a chuckle. "He's only willing to do as he's asked when he wants something."

... ... ...

The sound of her own measured breathing filled Santana's ears. Her arms remained crooked at her sides as she moved and her heart pounded out a steady rhythm. The monotony of the laps made it difficult for her to remember how close she was to finishing so she ticked off the turns subtly on her fingers.

The track runners had to begin each meet by doing a dozen laps around the school, followed by a jog out to the local post office and back. Approximately an hour later, they returned to where they began to practice on the track itself. This portion of their exercises usually ran into the early evening. The only good thing about the time-consuming nature of their routine was that Santana was usually ready to go home right around the same time that Brittany finished practice for Dance Team.

Today was no exception. Just like she always did, the leggy blonde sat in the grass a short distance away and watched patiently. Her blue eyes remained trained on her companion while her fingers wove garlands out of clover. A fleeting smile twitched up the corners of Brittany's lips each time their gazes met as Santana rounded the bend. When she wasn't busy checking the count of her laps, the jogging brunette twitched her hand in a brief wave to her friend.

Finally, Santana circled the track for the last time. She and her teammates did their cool-down stretches. The teen had to fight back a giggle when she noticed that Brittany was following along. Their coach blew her whistle loudly for dismissal and the girls dispersed.

"Are you ready to get out of here?" Santana asked and helped Brittany to her feet.

The tired dancer nodded and smoothed out her pants. Then the two girls linked pinkies and strolled toward the front of the school. They got as far as the road without speaking, but it was not an uncomfortable silence. Their hips brushed each other's while they walked and they enjoyed the simplicity of that casual contact. It wasn't until they reached the end of the block that the taller teen's forehead scrunched up in concern.

"You're quiet today," she remarked. "What's going on?"

"Hmm?" Santana asked, slowly surfacing from her thoughts.

"Is something wrong?"

"No," she replied. "Well, not _wrong_, just... different. Puck and I are officially dating now."

Brittany's eyebrows rose. She frowned slightly but didn't comment. Santana leaned around her to press the button at the crosswalk, glad for the excuse to break eye contact.

"So, that's a good thing, right?" the blonde hazarded tentatively when they crossed the intersection.

"Yeah, I guess. It's just that it came with a price."

The shorter girl felt her friend's grip tighten instinctively on her pinky and she knew what she must be thinking.

"Don't worry. I didn't do _that_. Not yet, at least. But he wants to."

"Of course he does," Brittany retorted. "He's a fourteen-year-old boy."

"Well, to be fair, we've been kind of together for almost five months now."

"And you're not married already?"

The dark haired teen nudged the other girl in the ribs.

"Seriously, Britt. We've gotten really close. It's not unreasonable now that we're both committed to this. It's not like he's the only one who wants to take things to the next level. He means so much to me. I think I might be ready."

Brittany dropped her hand and wrapped her arms around herself. Santana studied her face anxiously, afraid of what judgment she might find there.

"What are you thinking?"

No response.

"Brittany?"

"Are you sure?" the blonde finally asked. She locked her soul-piercing gaze on the dark brown eyes that were watching her.

"I think so. No, more than that. I know so. This is what I want."

"All right," Brittany said slowly and her smallest finger wound back around Santana's. "But just promise me something."

"What?"

"Be careful, okay? I don't want you to get hurt."

"I know, Britt-Britt. I promise. You don't have to worry, though. Puck loves me almost as much as you do. He'd never do anything to break my heart."

... ... ...

The big moment arrived at the end of that week. During third period on Thursday, Santana got a brief text filling her in on the current details.

_Mom & sis r staying my cousin's house this weekend. I said I had 2 stay home 2 work on a project. Can u come? _

She arranged to go directly to Brittany's house after school the following day under the pretense of spending the night there. The girl determined that, once darkness had fallen and she was fully prepared for the evening, she would walk the relatively short distance from the Pierces' house to the Puckermans'. She only hoped that she could make it that far without drawing unwanted attention to herself. It might prove difficult to be inconspicuous if she was well-dressed and wandering the sidewalks alone.

When Friday afternoon finally came, Santana carried out the first step of her plan without incident. She went home with her friend and, together, they set about tidying her appearance for the night ahead. Practice had left her hair frizzy and her skin sticky with sweat so she decided to take a shower first.

The spray of water pelted lightly against her bronze skin and it was difficult to prevent the sensation from feeling like fleeting touches from fevered fingers. Her hand pressed against her abdomen as she looked self-consciously at her untouched body. The humble, still-growing curves - would they be enough? What about her face? What if some awkward or unattractive expression crossed it while she wasn't thinking and the moment was shattered before it even began? Experimentally, she slid one palm down to the inside of her thighs but, before it even neared its mark, her nerves got the better of her. She withdrew it and went back to rubbing soap around her shoulders, eager to get out of the tub and back into her clothes.

A handful of minutes later, she slipped into Brittany's room with one fluffy towel wrapped around her torso and another around her dripping hair. She carried her track uniform slung over one arm. Her friend was sitting on the bed with her back facing the door but she turned when she heard someone walk in. The blonde rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hand. For a moment, Santana thought that she might have been crying. However, a bright smile graced the other girl's features as she rose to her feet and the notion faded from her consciousness.

"Are you ready for your makeover?" the taller teen teased and gently punched her on the arm.

"I guess."

She sat in front of Brittany's vanity and tried to avoid making eye contact with her mirrored image while her companion toweled out her heavy locks.

"What did you decide to wear tonight?" her friend asked.

"I ended up going with that dress I bought a couple of weeks ago when you and I went to the mall," she told her.

Brittany nodded her approval. The royal blue material had fallen exactly as it should on Santana when they were in the fitting room. It accentuated her figure in all the right places. The brunette_ knew _she looked good in the dress, too, so she exuded a glowing confidence the minute she put it on. It was the perfect choice.

"What about... underneath?"

The question surprised the dark haired girl a little and she ducked her head as she replied.

"It's really not much. I didn't have anything that seemed quite right, so I just packed something that had a bit of lace around the edges. Do you think it will be okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine," Brittany assured her. "I don't think you should've had to buy anything new. It's not like he'll be looking at it for that long anyway."

They both blushed at the implication and Santana hurriedly changed the subject.

"So, what are we going to do with my hair?"

"Well, I wanted something that could withstand the heat so I thought maybe I'd just brush it smooth and curl it under at the bottom."

"That works," the brunette agreed with a shrug. She grabbed a nearby file and set to work on her nails.

It felt so strange to be discussing these details in such an offhand manner. It was as if they were going to a party or a dance. At the back of her mind, the seated girl was aware that each minute brought her closer to a once-in-a-lifetime experience, but the idle chatter helped to calm the thundering of her pulse. However, there was one major difference in their conversation that nagged persistently at her gut. Unlike any ordinary social event, she would be facing this night alone. For the first time in ages, Santana would be going to a place where Brittany could not follow.

The taller teen hummed tunelessly while she brushed the brunette's hair. The slender fingers of her left hand held the strands close to her friend's scalp and prevented any tugs from causing her pain. The smaller girl's palm came up to rest on top of her companion's and stilled its movement. Santana met Brittany's gaze in the reflection.

"Britt, I'm scared."

The quiet blonde knelt down beside the chair and looked directly into her eyes. There was nothing but sympathy written across her features.

"It's a big step."

"A huge step."

"Are you still sure you want to do this?"

Santana's bare shoulders rose and fell. Her lower lip began to tremble. Sensing the change in the weather, Brittany opened her arms wide just as her friend dropped off the seat and crashed into her. She stroked the teen's hair and shushed her comfortingly.

"There's just so much pressure, you know?" the weeping girl wailed. "Especially for me. Puck's got it made because I can't compare him to anyone and I don't have any expectations. But I've got his freaking fantasies to live up to and I don't know if I can measure up."

She pressed her forehead against Brittany's clavicle and drew comfort from her friend's familiar perfume.

"I just want it to be _special_. I don't want to fail but I don't know what I'm doing. How the hell am I supposed to look sexy when I feel like I'm about to have a heart attack?"

"You're not going to have a heart attack and you're not going to fail," Brittany murmured next to her ear.

"How can you be sure?" her companion asked between hiccups.

"Because you love him," she replied softly. "And if he doesn't know how special that makes this, or how lucky that means he is because you chose him, then he's an idiot."

Santana sobbed into her friend's neck. Brittany rocked her slowly and cradled the shaking girl in her arms. Her face remained etched with concern for the other teen but she was blinking a great deal more than usual. She also seemed to be taking a keen interest in her room decorations.

When the brunette's cries eventually quieted, the blonde smacked her butt through the towel and forced her to her feet.

"Come on," Brittany encouraged sweetly. "We don't want you to be late."

She finished working on Santana's hair and then fetched her bag from the corner. As the shorter girl prepared to change, her friend respectfully averted her eyes. She saw the towel hit the floor and the teen's long legs bend one at a time when her companion slipped into her underwear. Next came the dual snaps of her bra being hitched into place. Then there was a brief rustling while the material of the dress slid over her body.

Brittany lifted her head and a shaky smile spread across her face. Santana looked stunning. She told her as much.

"You'll take his breath away," she assured her.

"I hope so," Santana exhaled through pursed lips. "It's almost time, isn't it?"

The blonde glanced first out the darkened window and then at the digital clock on her bedside table.

"Almost."

"I guess we'd better head downstairs, then."

The brunette gathered the last of her things in preparation. She had opted to wear her sneakers on the journey there and to put on a pair of black heels upon her arrival. Also, she decided to wear her track jacket over the dress in an attempt to mask the extravagance of her apparel until she reached her destination.

Side-by-side, the two friends crept down the steps with baited breath. None of the Pierce family stirred, however, and they reached the front door without any unexpected accompaniment. Santana turned to Brittany and threw her arms around her neck.

"Thank you so much," she said earnestly. "For everything."

"No problem," Brittany replied. "It's what friends do."

The shorter girl released her hold on her companion and tried to muster a brave smile.

"Well, here goes. I'll see you later."

She opened the door and stepped out into the humid air. Her heels swung from the crooked fingers of her left hand as she walked and kept her head held high.

"Santana!" hissed Brittany's voice from the doorway.

The departing teen's stride slowed and she turned back to face the blonde. The taller girl shifted her weight from one foot to the other and bit her lower lip.

"What?" Santana whispered.

"Nothing. Just... Good luck tonight," she told her.

"Thanks, Britt."

Brittany gave her a quick wink and a grin.

"Go get 'im."

... ... ...

The house was dark when she arrived. Santana hoped she wasn't too early. The coast seemed to be clear. She had set off ahead of time so she could make her way to the Puckermans' at a leisurely pace and prevent herself from working up a sweat. It was no good dressing to impress if you looked like you'd just finished a marathon.

When she reached the end of the front walk, the girl sat gingerly on the porch and switched her footwear. She removed her jacket and wrapped the sneakers in it. After checking over her shoulders to verify that no one was watching, she tucked the bundle under a nearby bush and then strode up to the entrance. Her pulse quickened as she rang the bell so she smoothed her outfit to calm herself.

The door opened a moment later and there stood Puck. He didn't look at all the way she had expected. Somehow, the girl had thought he would come to the door in a wife beater and loose-fitting jeans - clothes selected for their easy removal. However, his torso was covered by a neatly-pressed green shirt and he also donned a pair of black slacks that looked suspiciously new. For just a moment, Santana's fear was driven back by her irrepressible fondness for this unpredictable boy. He was trying for her.

She looked up into his dark eyes and was both pleased and flattered to see the way he stared at her. His mouth was slack and his fingers clung to the door handle for support. He took in her unbound hair and the flattering dress that seemed to almost glow in the moonlight.

"Wow," he whispered to himself. "You look beautiful."

She bit her lip and tried her hardest not to let the compliment pierce her heart too deeply, but the words hit their mark. Puck realized he was still blocking the doorway and shuffled gawkily to one side.

"Here, come in."

Santana walked past him into the living room. She smiled as she noted a deep groove in one of the chairs and a bowl of cashews that had been nervously picked down to the last crumbs. A hand pressed to the small of her back and led her farther into the house. Puck walked beside her, slightly hunched in his nervousness.

"Not on the couch," he clarified while they walked up the stairs and down the hall. "I set something up back here."

They reached his bedroom. He turned the handle and swung the door wide before indicating that she should go first. The transformation he had given the space was incredible. In place of the brown sheets and tattered quilt that usually covered the bed, he had spread out a wine red silk. Several mismatched but pleasantly scented candles had been lit. The faint smell of Febreze indicated that he had tried to mask the unmistakable aromas inherent to the room of a pubescent male.

"It looks great, Noah."

"You think? I tried to clean up a bit," he said modestly.

"I love it."

"So, um, do you want to sit?"

They both settled on opposite sides of the bed. The two teens clasped their hands in their laps, neither quite sure how they were supposed to begin.

"Are you hungry or thirsty at all?" Puck asked and started to stand, clearly eager for the chance to stall for time.

"No, thanks," Santana replied, and he settled back onto the mattress with a small frown.

They both looked at each other and waited for the other to guide their actions.

"Now what happens?" Puck laughed when the silence had stretched out for several long minutes.

"I guess we just... start," Santana replied, and they both gulped at the realization that the moment had arrived.

In unison, they stooped over their respective sides of the bed and removed their shoes. The silk rustled as they slid onto the sheets and for some reason it seemed unnaturally loud. Every creak and groan of the springs left their limbs shaking harder than they already were.

Puck smiled sweetly and scooted closer to her. By degrees, he raised his hand to the side of her face. The boy's palm was comfortingly warm against Santana's cheek. His lips pressed to hers and she allowed herself to relax into the familiar touch. The kiss grew longer and deeper and their fingers tangled in one another's hair. She felt the same hand that had touched her face push down to the strap of her dress. It fell off her shoulder easily and the other side soon followed suit. She shrugged out the rest of the way and set her own fingers to work on the buttons of his shirt. The tremor in her hands made it difficult to accomplish the task but she managed. She slid the material back over his broad shoulders and marveled at the toned muscles of his stomach and biceps.

He pressed their bodies together and enveloped her in his arms. They clung to each other for a moment before turning their attention to what remained of their clothing. She unbuckled and unzipped his pants. He kicked them off his legs and onto the floor. Santana pushed herself a few inches off the bed so Puck could slide the dress past her waist. The boy kissed each inch of her leg as he trailed the fabric down to her feet. Then his anxiety seemed to flee from him at the sight of her quivering body, minimally clad as it was in pure white lace.

From that moment on, he attacked the girl in a thought-obliterating frenzy. Hunger outweighed hesitation and she was perpetually aware of his dominance over her. The pressure of the outside of his thighs against the inside of hers was a little frightening but she recklessly threw herself into the act, matching him par-for-par. The sensation of their union was strange and far from tender though not altogether unappealing.

When they had finished, Puck rolled back to his side of the bed and panted heavily. Sweat shimmered on his skin and his eyes were slightly glazed over as they roved across the ceiling above them. Santana felt instantly cold. She wriggled under the covers and tried to still her quaking limbs. After they had both recovered, the young man turned onto his side and gazed at her.

She smiled feebly. The fingers of the boy's right hand slid over to intertwine with hers, while those of his left trailed back and forth across her brow.

"Thank you," he said earnestly. His warm breath tickled her neck and shoulder.

They kissed and he pulled the girl closer to rest her head on his chest. Santana listened to the sound of his heartbeat under her ear while he rubbed her bare back.

"Are you okay?" he murmured into her hair.

She nodded.

"You didn't bleed. I heard that sometimes girls do when it's their first time."

"Just lucky, I guess," she said while lightly trailing her index finger around his navel.

They lapsed into silence. Puck started humming to himself. Santana felt a jumble of questions crashing against one another in her mind but in the end only one made it to the tip of her tongue.

"Noah?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you happy?"

"Yeah, sure," he replied flippantly. "Why wouldn't I be? You know the funny thing, though? I'm starving. I think I'm gonna go in the kitchen and see what we have. Wait here."

He disengaged himself from her limbs and left the room. Santana watched him go with a lump in her throat. The chill returned and raised goosebumps on her flesh. She sat up, tucked her knees against her chest, and hugged them close the way she longed for him to still be holding her. More than anything, she wished she had brought her jacket inside. The cell phone in its left pocket seemed impossibly far away now. If she could just text Brittany, maybe she would know what to do.

The sound of clinking glass and the drag of a chair's legs across linoleum reached her ears. Apparently, Puck was settling in for the long haul. She rolled her eyes and reached over the side of the bed for her clothes. When she had dressed, Santana walked down to the kitchen to say good-bye.

She found her boyfriend seated in front of a three-layer sandwich and a glass of milk. His heels tapped against floor while he chewed contentedly. The girl's lip curled when she noted that he had not bothered to slip back into his boxers before leaving her. His exposure did not appear to bother him; in fact, it seemed to have slipped his mind entirely. He stopped mid-bite when he noticed her watching him.

"You're leaving already?" he asked as he tucked the food to one side to speak.

"Yeah, I'd better be going," she replied. "I don't want to risk falling asleep here because I need to be at Brittany's house when her parents wake up in the morning."

"All right. That's cool. You sure you don't want me to walk you there or something?"

It was an empty offer and they both knew it. Santana shook her head.

"That's okay. I'll be fine. I'll see you at school on Monday, okay?"

Puck rose to his feet. He came over to where she stood and gave her a peck on the cheek.

"See you then."

She gave him a small wave and turned away. As she left the house, she could hear him opening a cabinet in search of chips. The door closed heavily behind her and she fumbled toward the bushes in the dark. After a moment of searching, she located the concealed bundle and withdrew it. The girl slipped on her more comfortable shoes and tugged her jacket over her arms. Then her hand flew to her pocket. She pulled her phone out and prepared to dial with trembling fingers.

However, before she could even mentally compose a message, she saw that something had been sent to her while she was still inside. It was from Brittany.

_The door is already unlocked for you. I'll stay up until you get back. _

They were just two brief sentences but Santana found her eyes suddenly swimming with tears. She set off for the Pierces' house straight away. Her hurried pace carried her there in half the time it took to leave only a couple of hours earlier. True to the text, the front door was not locked. She slipped into the house as quietly as she could and ascended the stairs.

When she swung Brittany's door open, she found her friend propped up in bed. The sleepy blonde had her headphones on and her i-Pod in one hand. The other rested atop the cell phone that was on her lap. When she saw Santana, the other girl tugged out her earbuds and studied her companion closely.

"Hey," she whispered. "You're back early."

The brunette kicked off her shoes and climbed in beside her. She tugged the covers up to her neck and curled against her friend's body. The blonde rested her chin on the dark haired girl's head.

"How did it go?" she asked gently.

The smaller teen started sniffling and she found herself instantly wrapped in a warm embrace. She tugged at her companion's shirt and stained it with her tears but was met with no complaints. The blonde simply kissed her forehead and hugged her tighter while kindly refraining from pushing her for any details. Santana allowed herself to be rocked slowly into stillness and fell asleep in Brittany's arms.

… … …

"It's better now, Britt. Honestly, it is."

Brittany scooted some macaroni around her tray with a fork. She stabbed at a few of the noodles and popped them into her mouth. Across the table, Santana was trying to catch her eye but she avoided the gaze.

"I just don't get why," she grumbled.

"I'm trying to make things work between us," her friend explained for the dozenth time. "He's still my boyfriend and I still care about him. Okay, so he didn't turn out to be the romantic type but what did I expect? He's a boy."

"I still think it's a mistake to keep giving him what he wants. He doesn't seem too concerned about what you want."

"You know I can't just cut him off now. He wouldn't understand. Besides, doing that makes him happy and... I don't know," Santana shrugged. "You get used to it."

"That's great. You should have that stitched on a pillow."

"Why are you being so pissy today?"

Brittany sucked up the last of her chocolate milk and declined to answer. She turned her azure eyes on her friend and folded her arms.

"Okay, fine," the smaller girl snapped. "You want the truth of it? No sex equals no boyfriend. If I don't keep it up, he might leave me."

"How can you be sure he's not doing that already?" the blonde asked gently. "Just look at him now."

Santana turned around and watched Puck on the other side of the lunchroom. He was standing next to a table full of girls. He had one foot propped on the end of a bench and was leaning over the giggling teen closest to him.

"That's his lab partner," the brunette explained dismissively. "They have a presentation at the end of this week. He _has_ to talk to her."

"Yes, but does he _have_ to have his crotch so close to her face?"

The dark haired girl's mouth twisted and she returned her attention to her food. She nibbled the end of a fry and drummed her fingernails against the table.

"Look, Santana, please don't be mad at me," Brittany begged. "I want you to be happy, really I do. I just don't want you to settle because you think he's the best you'll ever have. He's not. You're so pretty and you're so smart. You deserve more than some cocky jock who's only keeping you for your services while he scouts for someone new to fill the position."

Santana blinked furiously and swallowed hard.

"He's not looking for anyone else," she insisted quietly. "He only wants me."

The blonde put her hand on top of her companion's and frowned. Her eyes were clouded while her thumb slowly rubbed the skin over her friend's knuckles.

"If you truly believe that," she said sadly. "Then love really is blind."

With that, Brittany took up her tray and left Santana alone with her thoughts.

... ... ...

"So, my track practice got cancelled today."

Puck closed his locker to find Santana leaning against the other side of the door. As soon as she could see his face, the girl raised her eyebrows and smiled invitingly.

"Looks like my afternoon is wide open," the brunette continued and studied his features for any twinkle of interest.

"That's cool," he responded while avoiding her eyes and walking toward his class.

"Any suggestions on how I should fill my schedule?" she asked before quickening her pace to match his.

"Not really. Maybe ask Brittany? You guys could hang out and watch a movie or something."

"Honestly, Puckerman, are you legitimately that obtuse or are you trying to play hard-to-get?"

"I only understood about half of that question but I'm not playing anything," he replied. "I can't do stuff with you today. I've got that presentation to work on."

"With her?" Santana demanded. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Yeah, I mean, she is my partner," he pointed out.

The dark haired girl harrumphed.

"In more ways than one," she mumbled under her breath.

"Come on, don't be like that," Puck protested as he stuck a pencil behind his ear. "We'll catch up some other time."

Santana continued to glare but he kissed her jaw and she found herself nodding begrudgingly. She watched him walk away and shook her head. As he vanished among the crowd, her attention shifted to tracking down Brittany. She shouldered her way toward their adjacent lockers, hoping to find the other girl in a better mood than she'd been in at lunch, because right now she could really use a dose of her friend's incurable optimism.

... ... ...

Brittany was stepping out into the hall after her fourth period class when she heard someone call her name. She was surprised to realize that, for a change, the voice was not Santana's. A familiar face appeared at her side and the blonde beamed.

"Hi, Mike!" she greeted warmly. "How are your new classes going?"

"Not as bad as they could be, I guess," her companion replied with a shrug. "I wish I had a few of them with you, though. You could show me the ropes."

The girl snorted.

"I couldn't help you with any of that stuff. I get easily distracted and I'm not exactly the smartest student. Just ask anybody."

She was so busy talking to her friend that she inadvertently ran into a boy walking in the opposite direction. He stumbled and almost dropped his books but regained his footing just in time to shoot her a parting scowl.

"Watch where you're going, moron!" he called after her.

The tips of Brittany's ears turned pink.

"See what I mean?" she asked and pushed a few strands of hair back from her face.

Mike frowned.

"You shouldn't let people talk to you like that."

The blonde shrugged.

"It doesn't bother you so much after a while," she said. "Besides, my friends don't call me that, and that's all that really counts, right?"

"I guess."

"Anyway, Santana is usually there to stick up for me, so most people don't say anything mean as long as she's around," Brittany told him in hope of easing his concerned expression.

"Santana?"

"Santana Lopez. She's my best friend," the teen explained.

"Isn't that the girl that's dating Noah Puckerman?" Mike asked.

Small lines appeared around his friend's mouth as she pursed her lips but she nodded.

"Yeah, that's her. How did you hear about that?"

"Some guys just mentioned her at the lunch table today, that's all."

Brittany blanched. What if Puck had started telling his buddies about his and Santana's… extracurricular activities?

"What did they say?" she asked cautiously.

Mike rubbed the back of his neck and looked away.

"Nah, you don't want to know, what with her being your best friend and all."

"That's exactly why I do want to know," she argued. "Please, tell me."

The boy sighed heavily.

"I don't remember the specifics but I kinda got the impression that maybe they don't really like her. They made it sound like she's sort of mean."

They had reached Brittany's locker by then and she set to work turning her lock clockwise before responding.

"A lot of people think that," the girl murmured while she twiddled the knob the other direction for the next number. "She just doesn't let a lot of people get close to her, that's all. Especially not since her brother died."

"She had a brother?"

Brittany nodded.

"Tony," she said with a fleeting smile as she remembered. "He got killed in an accident while he was in the war. Santana doesn't even say his name anymore. I know she misses him, though; so do I. He was really nice."

"That's awful," Mike said sympathetically. "How old was he?"

"Twenty-three," she replied and finally swung open the metal door to pull out the next stack of books she would need.

She didn't provide any further details about Santana's lost sibling and Mike politely refrained from asking any more questions. Still, Brittany worried her bottom lip between her teeth and hoped that she hadn't already said too much. At last, the girl closed her locker and smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry," she told him. "You seemed like you were having kind of a rough day and now I made it worse by talking about something sad. Why don't we change the subject?"

She purposely brightened her features and nudged him good-naturedly with her elbow.

"So, do you want to hear a joke?"

... ... ...

To her surprise, when she rounded the corner, Santana saw that Brittany was not alone. A tall, thin Asian boy was standing beside her and laughing while she animatedly told him a story. The brunette drew a little closer, giving them their space but tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for their conversation to finish. Finally, the other teen walked away and she moved to take her place at her friend's side. She twisted around to get another look at the boy's retreating back and her brow knotted when she mentally confirmed that she had never seen him before that day.

"Who the hell was that?" she asked before she linked her arm with Brittany's.

"Mike Chang," her companion replied. "He takes dance class with me. His family just moved here not too long ago. He's a pretty cool guy."

"He looks like a dork," Santana remarked with a sneer.

"You'd like him if you got to know him," the blonde said.

While she was sure that her friend wasn't looking, Brittany carefully tucked a torn piece of paper farther down into the front of her notebook, grateful that the other girl hadn't noticed the seven digits scribbled there.

... ... ...

"This weekend is going to suck," Santana complained and sprawled across Brittany's bed.

She leaned back over the edge until her dark hair pooled on the carpet and the blood rushed to her head. Still upside down, her dark eyes remained trained on her friend's face in the mirror while the teen worked the day's tangles out of her blonde locks.

"You'll be fine," her companion insisted and set the brush aside.

"Puck's going to be with Finn and the rest of the team, and you're going to be out with this new boyfriend of yours…"

"He's not my boyfriend," Brittany corrected as she put her hair back into a ponytail. "Or, at least, neither one of us has called it that yet. I'm not really sure when you know. We just go to the arcade or rollerblading and stuff. It's like hanging out with a friend."

"Still, you're leaving me to pass the next two days with my family and you know how much I hate that."

The taller girl finished her preparations and came over to join Santana on the bed. She flopped back until their heads were side-by-side and then turned to face her.

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely.

"You should be," the smaller teen replied, trying to sulk.

The blonde held out her pinky and Santana accepted it with her own.

"Do you like him a lot?" the brunette asked almost inaudibly. "Mike?"

Brittany shrugged.

"We do have a pretty good time," she admitted.

"I guess I could be okay with that," Santana surmised. "So long as you don't decide that you love him more than your best friend."

Brittany shifted closer and rested her head on the other girl's shoulder.

"You don't ever have to worry about that."

... ... ...

Brittany sat in the middle of the Changs' sofa and swung her long legs while she looked around the spacious living room.

"I still can't get over how big your house is, Mike!" she called to him when he went to get them something from the kitchen. "If there wasn't any furniture, you could totally play racquetball in here."

The boy chuckled and came back with their soft drinks. It was then that she saw he was also carrying a small chocolate cupcake with a lit candle in it.

"What's that for?" Brittany asked as she accepted her soda.

"It's our three month anniversary," Mike explained and set his own can aside to balance the cupcake on his palm. "Make a wish."

Brittany's face lit up with a warm smile and she clapped her hands excitedly.

"Wait, you have to make one, too!" she protested.

"Okay," he agreed with a grin, and he pressed his cheek to hers so they could blow out the candle at the same time. "Ready?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Three… two… one!" he counted, and they extinguished the flame with a single puff.

Mike removed the candle and set it on the coffee table. He then carefully tore the little cake into two equal halves and handed her one. They ate in silence for a moment while smiling at one another with their eyes.

"You look like a chipmunk," Brittany told him affectionately.

He gulped down the mouthful of cupcake and laughed.

"Yeah, and you've got a bit of a chocolate moustache there. Here, let me get it," the boy told her. He leaned in closer to rub the smudge away.

The blonde tried to hold still when he cleaned her face but her nerve endings felt like they were crackling with electricity. The boy's thumb stilled over her lip and she could tell that he was feeling it, too. On impulse, Mike cupped both sides of her face and pulled her in for a kiss.

Brittany sat paralyzed for a moment, unsure of how to react. Inhaling deeply as she gathered her courage, the girl hesitantly tried to reciprocate. It took a few seconds to get herself to relax, but once she did she decided that being close like this was kind of nice.

At last, the two broke apart and they laughed nervously. The girl's face was tinged pink while she smoothed her hair and tried to process what had just happened.

"So… The cupcake, the candle, the kiss… Does this mean that we're like an actual couple?" Brittany asked. "We're not just hanging out and stuff?"

"Yeah, I think that's usually how it works," Mike confirmed with a small smile. "The kissing part especially tends to help promote people to couple status."

The blonde nodded thoughtfully and polished off the last of her cupcake as she pondered.

"It's a shame you can't stay later," Mike lamented. "I know you and Santana have plans and everything, but it would have been nice to have longer to celebrate."

"I know," Brittany agreed. "But she's been spending so much time trying to patch up things with Puck. I've barely seen her since summer vacation began a couple of weeks ago and they started spending more time with each other. Plus, I've been so busy with lifeguarding that most of my afternoons are full. This is the first chance we've had to do something together since school let out and I don't want to let her down."

"I understand," the boy said and he stole another quick kiss.

The blush was starting to creep back into Brittany's cheeks and it only deepened when she felt her phone vibrate in her back pocket. She held up a hand and flicked it open before quickly scanning the contents of the message on her screen. As she read, her heart sank.

_Hey, Britt! I have to bail for today. Puck invited me to go camping with him! I'm sorry for cancelling, but we'll catch up soon. Talk to you when I get back!_

"Hey, Mike?"

"Yeah?"

"It looks like I can stay and celebrate with you after all," she said.

Brittany snapped the phone shut and restored it to her pocket. Then she held Mike's hand and smiled.

"So, what did you have in mind?"

… … …

Santana supposed she had seen it coming from the start. She had tried to prepare herself for the news, to acknowledge that it was only a matter of time, but somehow that didn't make it any easier. When Brittany showed up on her doorstep on that humid day in July, she could tell straight away that something had happened.

"Hey," the taller teen said softly after Santana opened the front door.

The brunette stepped aside and let her visitor into the house. Rather than linger to exchange pleasantries in the entryway, the other girl walked immediately upstairs. With a perplexed expression, Santana followed her and waited until they were safely in her room with the door shut and locked before she asked for an explanation.

"You seem a little out of it, Britt," she remarked. "What's up?"

Brittany sat down heavily on the edge of her friend's bed and stared at a spot on the floor.

"We did it."

"Who did what?"

"Mike. Me. We did it."

Santana felt as if someone had plowed into her abdomen with a battering ram. She took a few quick steps over to her mattress and plunked down beside Brittany.

"When?" she finally asked once her dry mouth was able to form words again.

"It was today. We didn't plan it or anything, not like you and Puck. He invited me over to swim with him. We were just goofing around near the pool but then…"

She shrugged.

"Did you… want to?"

"I guess," she said while still staring into the middle distance. "I mean, it wasn't that I didn't want to. It was just kind of strange."

"What do you mean?"

Again her shoulders rose and fell.

"We talked about it and we think maybe we took things too far. We're just going to be friends now."

In spite of herself, the other girl felt her spirits lift.

"You broke up?"

"Yeah, we did," Brittany murmured.

Her eyes finally focused and locked on Santana's.

"Does that mean I did something wrong?"

"No, I'm sure you didn't," the dark haired girl assured her kindly. "It just wasn't right between you. I mean, if neither of you enjoyed it, then it's probably for the best."

"But we did. I was always afraid it was going to be awful, especially after…," her voice trailed off and left out the part they never spoke of if it could be avoided.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts.

"But it wasn't. He was so nice and, actually, it was kind of… fun. It was just afterward that we felt weird about it."

Santana blinked in confusion. _Fun? _

"Can I ask you something?" the smaller teen said.

Brittany nodded and her friend gently took both of the girl's hands in hers. The brunette paused before she said any more, afraid to plant an idea in her friend's head if it wasn't true.

"Do you know for certain that's really how he felt? Are you sure this wasn't what he was after this whole time? Because if he used you, I swear to God, I will hack off his genitals and feed them through the garbage disposal, the blender, and the paper shredder."

The blonde smiled at her companion's familiar protectiveness but shook her head.

"I'm sure," she insisted. "I think it actually upset him more than it bothered me. He apologized a lot when we talked and he almost looked like he wanted to cry. I think he felt bad because he was afraid I wouldn't want to speak to him anymore. I made sure he knew I wasn't mad. I mean, it's nobody's fault."

Santana stared in awe at her friend, amazed by how calm and collected she was. She was handling the situation so rationally. The brunette couldn't help but flash back to her own experience and what a mess she'd been when she arrived in Brittany's bedroom.

The dark haired girl snuggled closer to her companion and leaned their heads together.

"I'm sorry it didn't turn out to be very special."

"That's okay," Brittany murmured. "I mean, yours wasn't either, right?"

She wound her smallest finger around Santana's and sighed.

"We'll get it right eventually."

… … …

Brittany was just starting to reapply her sunscreen when she spotted Santana on the other side of the chain link fence. The brunette was hugging herself and pacing. She beckoned almost frantically as soon as she knew she had caught the other girl's eye. Signaling to her fellow lifeguard that she'd be back in five minutes, the taller teen climbed down from her seat and walked over to where her companion waited impatiently.

"What's wrong?" Brittany asked. She wound her fingers through the holes in the fence to brush against the hands that were clinging so desperately to the metal links.

"I did something bad," Santana told her and chewed on her bottom lip while she struggled to regulate her voice. "Something really, really bad."

The blonde cast a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure no one else was within earshot. Then she turned back to her friend with concern.

"What happened?"

Santana sucked air through her pursed lips and tried to steady her nerves.

"I slept with someone other than Puck," she admitted.

Brittany blinked a few times but she waited for her companion to explain further.

"We were at a party last night," the smaller girl continued. "Puck kept flirting with everything female that moved and I just got really pissed off. Somebody brought drinks. I had no idea what they were because I'd never tried it before, but I had way too many. The next thing I knew, I was on my back in a truck bed with some guy I didn't even know by name."

She started to cry. The whimper that escaped her as she doubled over nearly broke her friend's heart. Brittany dashed toward the other lifeguard for a moment, called something up to him, and then ran through the entranceway and around the fence. She had the weeping teen in her arms before Santana had even properly registered that she was there. The blonde felt her companion's hands press tightly against her back and the dark haired girl's tears left a wet patch on the front of her suit.

"I mean, I guess I shouldn't feel guilty because I'm pretty sure Puck's been with at least a few other girls that he hasn't told me about," Santana reasoned while she continued out loud a conversation that she'd evidently been having inside her head. "But I do. It didn't even mean anything but I feel awful."

"It's going to be okay," Brittany assured her. "Have you talked to Puck about this yet?"

"No," the other teen replied and a scowl twisted her features. "I haven't even seen the bastard since last night. For all I know, he might have slept his way through every person he hit on at that party and here I am beating myself up for just one."

Her friend rubbed her back but did not voice her own opinions about that suspicion.

"I'm sorry," Santana said as she disengaged from their hug. "I'm going to get you in trouble at work. I'd better let you get back."

"That's all right," Brittany said. "I let Henry know that I needed to help you. He seemed totally fine with keeping an eye on things for a while. I think he kinda likes me."

The smaller girl's eyebrows rose.

"You move on quickly!"

The blonde blushed and pushed her hair away from her eyes.

"I'm not 'moving on.' We're just talking."

Now it was Santana's turn to keep her thoughts to herself.

"I have a quick favor to ask," she said instead.

"What do you need?"

"Puck's throwing a party of his own this weekend and I'm really scared about how it's going to go. Will you come with me?"

... … …

Brittany had never had a drink before that night. Santana handed the blonde her first cup and watched her face anxiously while she waited to see how she would handle it. Her companion wrinkled her nose and peered down into the liquid after her first sip. It was hard to hear her over the loud music, but the brunette was fairly certain she heard the other girl say something about it tasting like urine. Then she tossed her head back and downed the rest of it as quickly as possible.

After that, the taller teen gravitated toward the group of people dancing at the other end of the basement. She waved briefly to Santana before throwing herself into the throng. The smaller girl smiled affectionately and was grateful to know Brittany was nearby if she was needed. She drank a cup of her own, quietly thought that her friend's assessment had been spot on, and went to find Puck.

The first couple of hours passed by without incident but Santana tried to remain constantly aware of where Brittany was among the crowd just in case something happened. Each time that she spotted her companion, she had a new drink and a new dance partner. The night seemed to be going quite well for her, at least. The dark haired girl's own enjoyment of the party, however, was somewhat lacking. She found herself trapped on the armrest of a chair and forced to listen to Puck, his best friend Finn, and their buddies talk about sports for what seemed like an eternity. The more they drank the more raucous and enthusiastic they became, and their slurred cheering and shouting began to grate on her nerves.

The girl left their circle only occasionally to get herself more to drink. She was afraid to stay away for too long, lest her boyfriend develop a wandering eye while he was not under her watch. Still, she could only withstand so much athletic analysis. Eventually, she caved and decided to roam around for a bit on her own. So the brunette tracked down Brittany and danced with her for a while for a change of pace.

Santana tried not to let it worry her when she saw how out of focus her friend's eyes were, or to be alarmed when she noticed how familiar the girl was making herself with everyone in their general vicinity. After all, she had seen Brittany dance before, but never with as little personal space between herself and the other person as there was now. Countless guys flocked around her and tried to move close to her fluid form. The dark haired girl found her lip curling at the way that many of them were looking at the blonde. The taller teen was drawing such a crowd that it soon became difficult for her companion to stay close. When it got to be too much, she made her way back to the cluster of jocks she had abandoned just to get away from the uncomfortable press of bodies.

Puck's seat was empty.

"Finn!" Santana called over the thumping bass coming through a nearby speaker.

The dark haired boy turned to her and she gestured toward the vacant chair.

"Where did he go?"

She wouldn't swear to it, but the brunette thought she saw a flicker of guilt cross the teen's face as he shrugged and looked away. With a snarl of frustration, she grabbed an abandoned cup on a nearby table. Santana drank its contents in one gulp before storming off through the other guests to find her boyfriend.

It did not take long. On a sofa in a darkened corner, she found the boy with his hand halfway up the shirt of some girl from the grade below theirs. Suddenly, she was looming over them both and Puck didn't even have time to separate his mouth from the stranger's to defend himself.

"Hey, dickhead," she growled and yanked on his hair to get his attention. "Care to tell me what the hell you're doing?"

The younger girl gasped and pulled away from the embrace before darting off as quickly as she could to avoid Santana's wrath. Puck sat up and rubbed the sore spot on his scalp where she had tugged, glaring.

"What is your problem?" he demanded.

"My problem is that you're a lying sack of crap," she retorted. "What happened to all that stuff about being exclusive? You were supposed to have stopped all this when you got with me."

"Well, that didn't exactly work out, did it?"

Santana shook her head sadly. Despite all her efforts to prevent them from falling, a few tears slid out the corners of her eyes when she spoke.

"Brittany was right. You've had one foot out the door all along. I can't believe I've been wasting so much time on such a jackass."

She turned and walked away from him, determined to find Brittany and get out of there before the situation could get any worse.

Except it already had.

When she finally spotted the blonde among everyone else jumping around to the current beat, she saw that the last of her friend's inhibitions had evidently flown at some point during her absence. Somewhere along the way, Brittany had removed her shirt. She was currently grinding against an unfamiliar boy and wearing only a bra on her otherwise bare torso. The brunette stood dumbfounded as people neither she nor her companion had ever met before slid their hands across the other girl's back and stomach. They wound their arms around her and thrilled at how she moved closer rather than pushing them away. Through the daze of her temporary stupor, all that Santana could distinguish were the words to the song currently playing through the system.

_Just take me on the floor._

_I can give you more._

_You kill me; you kill me; you kill me with your touch._

_I wanna kiss a girl. I wanna kiss a girl. I wanna kiss a boy…_

She shook herself to restore her focus and stumbled forward, eyes locked on her friend as she elbowed past the other dancers. By the time the singer's shriek was echoing through the speakers, she had pried the girl free from her flock of admirers and was yelling into her ear.

"Come on!" she instructed and urged the teen toward the stairs. "We're leaving."

Brittany followed with a confused expression and allowed herself to be pulled along until they were out on the Puckermans' front lawn.

"Do you want to tell me what was going on in there?" Santana demanded and put her hands on her hips. "What did you think you were doing? And where the hell is your shirt?"

"What do you mean, what was I doing?" the blonde asked as she rubbed her arms against the chill. "I was just dancing."

"Are you kidding me? If I hadn't brought you out here just now, you'd have started some kind of orgy with half the guys in our class! Why were you letting them touch you like that?"

"We were just having fun…"

"There you go with that word again! Brittany, if you make it that easy, pretty soon that's all you're going to be to them. I can't just watch you throw yourself around that way."

Brittany stared at her unblinkingly for a few moments and Santana felt a rush of guilt as she saw that she had struck a nerve. She opened her mouth to apologize but then her friend finally spoke.

"I'm not throwing myself around," the taller girl argued, speaking in measured tones to keep her voice level. "The only one I've ever slept with was Mike. I've just gotten better at being around boys, that's all. I don't understand; I thought this was a good thing. Ever since they started to see me this way, guys don't really say mean things to me anymore. I haven't had a single person call me dumb or stupid all summer."

"Yeah, but at what cost?" Santana demanded. "You shouldn't have to do those things just to get them to be nice to you."

Brittany pressed her palms against her pounding temples and grimaced.

"Okay, now I'm really confused. You're the one that's always acting like it's not a big deal. You've done it so many times you've lost count."

_Nineteen_, the dark haired girl thought silently. _Including the drunken mistake, it's nineteen_.

"You got used to sex with Puck, and that time with that other guy didn't mean anything. Why is it different if it's me?"

"Because you're special, damn it!" Santana replied with a stomp. "You're so fucking special. You're my best friend and I hate the thought of anyone touching you that doesn't care about you."

Unintentionally, she had seemingly alluded to the thing they agreed never to discuss. She held her breath and waited to see how Brittany would respond. To her surprise, her companion did not appear upset. Instead, the blonde frowned thoughtfully and walked over to where Santana stood. She grabbed one of her hands and looked her in the eye.

"You're special, too," she pointed out and the other girl had to turn away from the intense sincerity in her gaze. "You deserve better."

"Yeah, well, you're the only one that thinks so," Santana grumbled and she hated herself for the warm drops that spilled from her tearducts.

Brittany rubbed her friend's arm and gave her a small smile.

"Wait here for just a second," the blonde told her. "I'll be right back."

The smaller girl nodded and went to sit on the curb until her companion returned. When the other teen reappeared, shirt restored to its place on her body, she held out a hand to help Santana to her feet.

"C'mon," she said. "Let's go home."

Santana sniffled and nodded. Brittany tugged her close and draped an arm around both of her shoulders. The brunette wrapped one of her own arms around her friend's waist and they slowly stumbled their way back to the Pierces' house by moonlight.

… … …

"So, tell me what happened," Brittany said once they were settled in her room.

The two girls were sprawled out across her bed and staring up at the ceiling as they conversed. Santana covered her eyes with her hands and sighed.

"It turns out you had Puck pegged," she responded. "I found him enjoying a run around the bases with some pre-pubescent pipsqueak that ran away the minute she saw me."

"I'm sorry," the blonde murmured earnestly. "I really didn't want to be right."

"I know," Santana replied. "Still, I'm glad I found out the truth. It looks like you're a much better judge of character than I am, except when it comes to me. You've always cut me way more slack than you should."

Brittany twisted onto her side and looked at her friend sadly.

"Why do you always say things like that? You're not as bad as you think."

"Tell that to the rest of the student population," the brunette quipped as she looked away.

Her companion hugged her arm protectively.

"Well, I don't care what they say. You're a good person. Maybe, if you believed that, everyone else would see it, too."

The smaller girl turned to look at her in amazement. Everything always sounded so simple and sweet when Brittany said it. Given the choice, she'd much rather live in that world than the one she actually inhabited.

"I wish everyone else could be like you," she told her.

The other teen smiled and pressed their foreheads together. Their eyes locked on one another's. The brunette suddenly felt very acutely aware of how close Brittany's face was to hers. Without being certain of who made the first move – although she told herself later they closed the gap simultaneously – Santana kissed her. The touch was fleeting at first but then it deepened as both girls realized that the other wasn't going to pull away.

Santana was the first to break the contact and, when she sat up, her hand flew over her mouth.

"Shit," she hissed. "Please forgive me, Britt. I didn't mean to. I don't know where that came from."

Brittany got up, too, and blinked twice before she shrugged and smiled.

"That's okay. I mean, it's not like it's the first time, right?"

The brunette felt her face grow warm at her companion's reference to what had happened between them more than a year ago but the memory came back the moment the words were spoken.

It had started out as one of those silly games that girls play at parties. They were at the house of a vague acquaintance sitting in a circle with a handful of their female classmates. The object of the game was to pass a small scrap of notebook paper around the ring of people using only their mouths.

Everyone was giggling nervously and fidgeting as the piece drew closer to them. When it was finally Brittany's turn, she carefully took the paper from the girl to her left, licking her own lips beforehand to make sure that it would stick. Santana, who had been wringing her hands ever since the beginning of the game, closed her eyes before she moved in to take hold of the scrap.

Neither of them noticed when the paper broke free from Brittany's mouth at the last minute and floated down into her lap. Their lips met, and Santana's eyes flew open in alarm. She found herself looking into Brittany's irises and was unsettled when she couldn't readily identify the emotion she saw there. They pulled apart from each other almost immediately. Everyone laughed it off and continued the game but the two friends avoiding looking directly at one another for the rest of the evening.

Now, as Santana watched the way that Brittany worried her lip between her teeth, she wondered if maybe she could give a name to what she had been feeling that night after all.

"I'm such a screw up," the dark haired girl wailed unhappily.

"No you're not," the blonde insisted. "In case you didn't notice, I kissed you back."

The other teen realized that this was true. She tried in vain to form a verbal response to that fact but couldn't find the words. While she was still processing the information, her friend scooted close enough for their legs to touch. Santana felt a strange tingling shoot up her body from the spot, which only further unnerved her. She lifted her dark gaze to search her companion's features and the burning look in the other girl's eyes held her transfixed. One of Brittany's hands lifted from her side and reached out to cup the back of the brunette's head. For a breathless moment they paused, but then they kissed again and this time neither of them apologized.

In what seemed like only a moment, Santana was horizontal with Brittany sitting atop her thighs. Their mouths were still pressed against each other's and she could feel the moist touch of the blonde's tongue gently parting her lips. A thought seemed to occur to her friend then. Brittany guided them both to their feet and crossed the room backwards. She clumsily reached for the handle behind her and clicked the lock securely into place. Then she led Santana to the bed once more. The girl kissed the beautiful brunette every step of the way to the door and back, as if she feared giving her a second to think might shatter the moment.

They broke apart just long enough to unbuckle and kick off their jeans. The shockwave of skin against skin spurred them on even faster. Santana clawed at the back of Brittany's shirt with unspoken urgency. Her companion raised her arms and allowed herself to be stripped of the encumbering garment. Then they worked together to remove Santana's blouse as well. They tossed the unwanted article aside with the others piled on the floor.

Here the two girls faltered. Poised on the bed in their soft, partially-developed bodies, they found themselves shivering with vulnerability. The brunette's head was spinning with a thousand questions that she didn't have the courage to give voice to and she felt the inexplicable urge to cry. Instead, she focused her internal energy on assuring herself that what they were about to do wouldn't change anything. They were best friends after all, first and foremost, and nothing would tear them apart.

Santana looked up at Brittany. The all-too-recognizable blend of emotions on her face - affection, apprehension, anxiety - was an exact reflection of her own. Her heart swelled to bursting as the other girl's lip protruded. She was afraid, too. With a shaking hand, she pressed her palm against the side of the worried blonde's face.

_It's going to be okay_, she tried to tell her with her eyes. _Everything will stay exactly as it was. I promise._

With unsteady fingers, they removed their undergarments themselves.

What followed was indescribably perfect in its imperfection. They learned the steps of this foreign dance together and used their combined knowledge to work out the more intricate nuances. They were neither calm nor confident but the honesty behind every movement made their inexperience an insignificant afterthought.

_Nothing's going to change_, Santana adamantly reassured herself in the back of her mind. _It's just a one-time thing. We'll be all right when it's over. It will still be the same._

But then Brittany's name slipped past her lips in an almost incoherent moan and her own name was gasped into her ear as the other girl echoed her cry. She shut her eyelids tightly against the hissing whisper of her own inner voice.

_Think again._

... … …

The following morning, Brittany awoke first to the touch of the sun's rays on her skin. This was followed by the chill of the space beside her on the mattress as she groaned and rolled over. The cold vacancy made her shiver. The teen sat up confusedly as she realized that she was in her bed alone. Goosebumps rose along her arms and she rubbed them absentmindedly. Her bleary eyes searched the room for any sign of her companion. Then she saw that only her clothes remained in the pile from the previous night.

That was it, then. Santana was gone.

The blonde didn't remember the other girl saying anything about needing to leave early. She could have at least said goodbye. Unable to get warm, Brittany reached for the comforter folded at the foot of the bed and wrapped it around her bare shoulders. As she curled up and tried to conserve heat, her gaze fell on a folded piece of paper on her nightstand. With a furrowed brow, she shot one hand out to grab it.

Brittany recognized Santana's handwriting immediately. Her vision began to blur as she read what the girl had written. The simplicity and implied finality behind it left her feeling empty. She tugged her knees up to her chest and the quiet sound of her crying echoed through the empty bedroom. The girl allowed the note to slip from her fingers as her hands reached up to wipe away the burning tears. When the paper fell onto the floor, the two words it bore were illuminated by a shaft of light coming through the window:

_I'm sorry. _


	4. Shoulder Conscience

The hallways of McKinley High teemed with activity as the bell rang for lunch. Students jostled past each other while they made a beeline toward their lockers and the cafeteria. One freshman among their number wove a zigzag pattern through the crowd and tried in vain to avoid being thrown off course by the steady stream of passersby. The elbow of a burly senior clipped the side of her head and left her seeing stars. She leaned against the nearest wall until the pain subsided. When she looked up, the girl saw that she had successfully reached the announcement board that had been her target in the first place. A relieved smile spread across her face.

She stepped toward a large sign-up sheet a few feet away only to have her path cut off by a couple of other girls. The taller of the two, a fair-skinned blonde, picked up the pen hanging on a string beside the paper and wrote her name on the line. She handed the writing utensil off to her friend, a brunette with olive skin and dark eyes, who followed her companion's lead and added her own signature to the list. The solitary teen watched them both with quiet interest and sized up her competition. The brunette's skirt and the blonde's capris afforded her a decent view of their legs. Her heart sank at how toned and sculpted they appeared to be. As the friends turned and walked in the opposite direction, the other girl observed that they were both light on their feet. The blonde maneuvered the student traffic with apparent ease and the brunette beside her kept up the pace with practiced agility.

Alone in the slowly emptying hallway, the freshman looked back at the paper. Her heart pounded and she felt an unpleasant twisting in her gut. Perhaps she should reconsider this tryout. How could she possibly compare to people like that, girls who already looked the part?

Another person approached the announcement board – a boy this time. His hand grabbed the pen and stretched it toward a sheet pinned beside the one that the girls had signed. He clamped his tongue between his teeth while he scribbled his name in one of the margins. When he finished, the boy turned and noticed the other teen standing there.

"Oh, sorry," he said. "Were you gonna sign up for something?"

The girl's throat was dry and her hazel eyes were wide but she managed to bob her head.

"Cheerleading," she choked out before her voice could fail her altogether.

"Cool," the boy replied with a half-smile. "I just signed up for tryouts for the football team. If we both get accepted, maybe I'll see you around."

"Yeah, maybe," she agreed.

A blush crept up her face until it reached the roots of her blonde hair. The boy turned and walked toward the cafeteria. She watched him depart with a faint sigh.

Well, that was all there was to it. She had to sign up now. Besides, this was a new school year which meant new beginnings. She had a different home, different school, different hair, and a different name – the last of which she signed along the open line:

**Quinn Fabray**.

… … …

_If my legs could run half as fast as my mind, I'd be the skinniest girl in school_, Quinn thought ruefully as she chewed on her thumbnail.

In the course of one week, she had gone from viewing the tryouts as a heavily debated possibility to her only chance for a happy high school career. Now her heart was pounding so loudly that she could barely hear the other teens' names as they were being called. The girl's hands were clenched into such tight fists that deep nail indentions marked the insides of her palms.

Quinn's eyes spotted the two companions she had seen on the day she signed up and, for want of anyone else who remotely counted as a 'friendly face,' decided to stand near them until it was time to audition. Close as she was, some of their conversation drifted to her ears without any intentional eavesdropping.

"… Still think this was a bad idea. Just look at them. It's like someone cloned half the freaking cast of Bring It On. Are you sure you want to go back to all that?" the brunette murmured anxiously.

"I won't be mad if you don't want to, but I really miss it," the blonde replied. "I miss the routines and the competitions and the games. I miss having someplace I belonged."

"Oh no," the brunette argued vehemently. "If we're doing this, we're doing it together. I'm not letting you go back alone. As for Bleached Blondes Anonymous, I'll adjust."

The taller teen's hand slipped down her side to lock her pinky around the dark haired girl's own. Quinn watched this small gesture of affection with mild curiosity but then her attention was drawn back to their surroundings when the next name was shouted.

"Brittany Pierce!"

The blonde gave her friend's hand a final squeeze and stepped out into the middle of the floor. Instantly, her entire demeanor changed and everyone, with the exception of the companion she'd left standing on the sidelines, could only gape in utter amazement. She went from a soft-spoken and unassuming new student to a young woman completely in command of both the room and her audience. Quinn wanted to regard her with envy and begrudge her this unexpected talent but in the end all she really felt the urge to do was clap her hands together and… well… cheer.

When Brittany finished, Coach Sue Sylvester - an irritable looking woman with short blonde hair and a permanent scowl – simply sat in silence. She blinked several times and then slid her glasses back into place on the end of her nose. However, there was a visible twinkle in her eye as she thanked the girl and returned her attention to the list of other prospects.

"Santana Lopez!"

The brunette muttered an oath and reluctantly took the place her friend had just vacated. To Quinn, it appeared that there was a slight tremor in the teen's hands where they twitched at her sides. Then the dark-haired girl launched into her routine. What she lacked in comparison to her friend's confidence and flexibility, she made up for in volume. Her voice reverberated off the walls loud enough to demand attention but not so boisterously as to induce wincing from those who watched. Then there was her smile. It was clearly the painted-on, purposely perfect sort generally reserved for school photographs but there was no denying that the expression made her look remarkably pretty.

The girl concluded her performance and was similarly thanked before she darted off to join the blonde waiting for her on the sidelines. Now it was Quinn's turn to prove her worth. Her insides felt as though they were collapsing on each other and an overwhelming dizziness clouded her mind. However, her eyes fell on the two who had gone before her and she was suddenly determined to show that she had just as much to offer.

She dug deep and called on every resource she had: her summer in gymnastics, perhaps two dozen lessons in dance. It wasn't much, but Quinn threw herself into every move for all she was worth. Her fists lifted triumphantly over her head with her final cheer and the teen's chest heaved while she waited for the response. To her left, the girl called Brittany clapped quietly but the one named Santana stilled her hands.

The coach allowed herself a small smile and said simply, "Very nice."

Judging from her behavior thus far, this was high praise indeed. Quinn beamed and left the floor.

When everyone else had been through their tryouts, the newcomers were told to stand in a straight line. Less than a dozen names were called including Brittany's, Santana's, and Quinn's. Coach Sylvester asked the designated ten to step forward. They were informed that the people in the back line were dismissed and the selected individuals who stood alone were now official members of the Cheerios.

All the inductees grinned and several squealed excitedly. The two friends hugged one another and Brittany spared Quinn one of her sweetest smiles over Santana's shoulder where it would not be seen.

Quinn, for her part, nearly collapsed in relief. She had done it. Now that she was a part of one of the most popular groups in the school, her future seemed set. Finally, there would be a place she fit in and no one would dare to voice a single word against her.

Oh yes, it was certain: high school was going to be the best four years of her life.

… … …

Perhaps that assessment was a little overhasty, a fact which became abundantly clear by the end of their first practice with the more experienced squad mates. Each phase of the routine they were learning seemed to stretch on for hours and a dreadful ache had settled into the freshmen's shoulders and the middles of their backs.

The elder cheerleaders were no help, either. They looked down on the new Cheerios with disdain and an ever-present curl in their lips. Each mistake was considered a sign of their incompetence and Sue Sylvester's ceaseless barking through her megaphone left the six young girls rattled and jumpy.

Once they were finally dismissed, the exhausted teens wandered to the locker room with shuffling steps and great gulps of air into aching lungs. The older girls rushed to stake claims on all the available showers and separated the freshmen in their haste to get ahead. Determined to avoid the jostling and jeering they would face inside, Brittany and Santana waited with some of their fellow inductees until it seemed safe to venture through the doorway. Eventually, they stepped into the warm space and settled down heavily next to their duffels.

"Ugh, gross," Santana complained as she peeled the tank top off her dampened skin. "I don't think I've sweated this much since that time the air conditioning stopped working in our house last July."

"She was pretty tough," Brittany conceded while she wriggled out of her shorts. "It feels good to be back, though."

"Speak for yourself," Santana grumbled good-naturedly. "I quit track for a reason, you know. My hair can only take so much humidity before it starts looking like Scary Spice in the mid-90s."

Her companion giggled appreciatively but a stilling hand came over to rest on her shoulder.

"What's that sound?" Santana asked in an undertone.

Brittany tilted her head to the side and listened intently. Sure enough, a muffled whimpering was coming from the other side of the lockers in the middle of the floor.

"It sounds like someone crying," she whispered back with a frown.

The two exchanged a brief glance and rose to walk around the corner. There, on a bench identical to the one on which they had just been sitting, was a solitary figure curled tightly in a ball. The weeping stranger had both legs tucked up to her chest and was burying her face against her thighs to stifle the sound of the sobs.

It wasn't until the girl lifted her head that Brittany recognized the cheerleader at last.

"It's _Quinn_," she silently explained.

Unable to remember the name, Santana started to back up but Brittany gently caught her by the wrist. She nodded in the distraught young woman's direction with a sympathetic expression and led the way to her side. Cautiously, she breezed her fingers over the tearful teen's arm.

"Hey," Brittany murmured kindly. "What's the matter?"

The emotional girl jumped so hard she nearly fell backward and looked up at them both with bloodshot eyes. She pushed one strand of hair behind her ear self-consciously and struggled to regain her composure.

"Nothing," Quinn lied immediately. "Just… This practice was more than I expected. I'm exhausted."

Not fooled by the over-simplification of her problems, Brittany perched next to this new acquaintance and watched her with earnest concern.

"And?" she prompted.

The girl blinked at her in disbelief.

"And I'm not sure if I'm cut out for this," Quinn admitted, coaxed into honesty by the teen's unexpected persistence.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Santana said while she settled onto the vacant spot to her right. "Everybody seemed tired as hell when it was over. It's not just us."

"She's so… I don't know… mean," Quinn confessed. "I don't think I'll ever be good enough for her."

"The coach?" Santana verified. "That's because no one is. She's a menopausal spinster with a megaphone; complaints are like her oxygen. Trust me, after a while it'll just be like white noise."

Quinn gave her a tiny smile.

"Easy for you to say," she remarked. "You guys are both perfect. Half the new recruits were looking at you more than the captain to learn what to do."

"So we're quick learners," Santana shrugged with uncharacteristic humility. "You'll get there, too."

Brittany beamed proudly at her over the other girl's shoulder and Santana glowed from the unspoken praise.

"All that was bad enough but now I've got to face the showers," Quinn fretted.

"What's bad about that?" Brittany asked confusedly. "You'll feel a lot better once you cool off and don't have to be all sticky and stuff. It wakes you up again."

"I know," their miserable new companion sighed. "It's just… everyone else."

"You don't want them to see," Santana correctly surmised.

Quinn nodded.

"We'll take care of it."

This earned the dark-haired girl an incredulous expression.

"Seriously," Santana insisted. "Britt and I will take the stall on either side so no one can get close enough to bother you."

"You'd do that for me?"

"Totally," Brittany confirmed. "That's what friends are for, right?"

Again, Quinn batted her eyelashes as she struggled to comprehend.

"Friends?" she repeated softly.

The other two nodded in unison.

"We haven't even introduced ourselves to each other yet," Quinn pointed out with a feeble laugh.

"She's Brittany and I'm Santana. You?"

The girl ducked her head bashfully and stared at her knees as she replied.

"L—_Quinn_. Quinn Fabray."

"Well, now that that's done, let's get this over with," Santana urged. "Only the other recruits are left now, so it won't be as bad."

Quinn nodded but fidgeted a little and they realized that she wanted to undress alone. Respectfully, the two returned to their own bench and deposited the rest of their clothes. They entered the steaming showers and chose two on the far left with an empty stall in between. A few moments later, the quiet splash of approaching footsteps told them that their friend was finding the place they had reserved for her.

The rusty spigot squeaked noisily before a steady stream of water burst forth and fell onto the waiting teen below. In the stall to her left, Santana was suddenly overcome by a quiet but persistent curiosity as to just why the blonde and beautiful newcomer was so self-conscious. What could she possibly have to hide?

_Scars? A deformity? An embarrassing tattoo?_

Her imagination raced until she grew so annoyed by the clamoring of her own thoughts that she decided to sneak a brief peek. She stood on tiptoe and carefully peered out of the corner of her eye, which barely cleared the uppermost part of the dividing wall, to get some answers.

_Nothing._

The spray of the shower conveniently hid her quiet hiss of disgust. The girl's body was perfect. She might not have been the most curvaceous woman to ever walk the earth, but there was not a single blemish to be found.

Santana's gaze caught Brittany's and saw that she, too, had succumbed to temptation.

"_What the hell?_" Santana mouthed with an irritated jerk of her head in Quinn's direction. Brittany shrugged. Neither of them had a clue what made her so determined to remain unseen.

Eventually, after the other freshmen had gone, Quinn shut the water off and poked her head out of the stall to check that the coast was clear. Then she darted toward the bench waiting with her clothes and called over her shoulder before she departed.

"Thanks so much, you guys! I really appreciate it!"

As Quinn disappeared from sight, Brittany faced Santana once more. Her brow furrowed when she saw that the girl's attention had returned to finishing her rinse. Slowly, the taller teen left her own shower and walked past the empty stall into the next occupied one.

"I need to ask you something," she said in a low voice.

Santana's hand flew to her heart in alarm. She turned around and discovered that Brittany was now only a few feet behind where she stood. Her eyes widened.

"What?" she queried cautiously.

She hunched her shoulders and readjusted her limbs to preserve a modicum of modesty.

"Are we ever going to talk about this summer?" Brittany demanded.

Santana hesitated to respond. Her friend stepped closer and scrutinized her features. Without meaning to, Santana realized how her own gaze had become drawn to the soaked ends of Brittany's hair. Rivulets of water streamed from the tips and flowed across every curved and taut surface of her body before plummeting to the tile floor beneath her feet.

"I don't think that's a very good idea," Santana managed to murmur in spite of the fact that she was struggling to form even the simplest of words.

"Why not?" Brittany responded and advanced further.

"B-because," Santana stammered. "We were drunk. It was an accident."

"An accident?" Brittany repeated quietly.

She was so close now but even the uncomfortable knowledge of her nearness couldn't keep her companion from seeing the flicker of pain in her pupils. Brittany's mouth twisted as she thought this statement over and inched forward a bit more. Santana's heart was thudding painfully beneath her ribcage. She licked her lips nervously while she watched the blur of emotions flitting across the other girl's face like swiftly moving clouds.

"Yeah," she reaffirmed when Brittany's nose was almost touching hers. "I mean, it was just something that happened so it doesn't have to be a big deal, right?"

The other teen leaned their foreheads together and waited until she heard the catch in Santana's breath before she gave a single word in reply.

"Right."

Brittany's mouth pressed wetly against Santana's until her knees buckled. Then Brittany caught her by the waist and hoisted her to lean against the wall behind them. Santana's legs crossed at the ankles to help hold herself aloft. The water pouring down from overhead matted their hair against their faces and made it necessary to shut their eyes while they sank to the floor and allowed their hands to rove.

Santana thought about setting up more boundaries. She struggled to clear her thoughts and regain sufficient control of her motor skills to lay down some ground rules. However, when one of Brittany's hands pinned both of hers overhead while the girl's tongue slid across the inside of her upper lip, she relinquished the fight. This was by no means the last battle on this front. However, for now, she was left with no choice but to swallow her pride and wave the white flag of surrender.

… … …

Quinn leaned on her hand and stared wistfully across the cafeteria. Here she was, seated with the cheerleaders and flanked on either side by her two new friends. It was supposed to be enough, but her heart wanted more.

Specifically, it wanted the boy from the hall who had left her so speechless. Just as Quinn had hoped, he'd been accepted onto the football team which meant she saw him quite often. Unfortunately, they hadn't spoken since that day by the sign-up sheets. She had, however, snuck back to the signatures after they met and learned his name: Finn Hudson.

Unexpectedly, Quinn was shaken from her reverie when she felt someone's finger push against the end of her nose. She scrunched up her face and giggled as she looked over at Brittany.

"What?" Quinn asked innocently.

"I was just checking to make sure you were still here," Brittany explained with an amused smirk.

"You kinda spaced out on us," Santana remarked. "What are you staring at?"

"Nothing."

Santana followed her line of sight and began to laugh.

"Oh no," she cackled. "So The String Bean finally got an admirer!"

"I don't know who y—"

"Finn, right?" Santana confirmed.

"Yes," Quinn reluctantly admitted. "What's wrong with him?"

"Oh, nothing, if you like them pudgy-faced with the personality of a ten-year-old," Santana quipped. "I think he'll work for you, though. As virginal as the day is long. That's right up your alley, isn't it?"

Quinn's face flushed and she murmured something indistinctly.

"I can talk to his best friend for you if you'd like," Santana offered casually. "I'm sure Puck could figure out if he's interested and let us know."

They were both startled by the sound of a fork hitting a tray with a loud clatter.

"You're talking to Puck again?" Brittany sputtered.

"Yeah," Santana replied without looking her in the eye. "The other Cheerios said that all the girls have a football player to hook up with and that we'd better snag one of the new guys if we didn't want them to be picked over by the time we got there. He seemed like the easiest and most obvious choice."

"You got the 'easy' part right," Brittany grumbled and turned back to her food. "Well, if that's what everyone expects, I guess I'd better talk to Mike and see if he's okay with us going together."

Santana's jaw clenched but she smoothed her features and faced Quinn instead.

"It's all set, then. We've got our guys picked out and now we'll set you up with yours."

"I-I really don't know what to say," Quinn stammered.

"You don't have to say anything," Santana assured her chummily.

"Yeah," Brittany chimed in with a pointed look. "Santana will do all the talking."

… … …

"All right, ladies," Santana said authoritatively the following afternoon. "It looks like we're ready to put Phase One into effect."

After a very lengthy three-way conversation over the phone the previous night, they had worked out a comprehensive plan to get Quinn on Finn's radar. The more knowledgeable girls had given her very specific instructions on what to wear and how to present herself. Now she stood before them fidgeting nervously with her too short pleated skirt and a top that showed off more of her collarbone than she was comfortable exposing. Her small cross necklace now felt rather ironically out of place where it rested against her chest.

"I don't know, you guys," Quinn mumbled awkwardly. "I don't know if I can make this convincing."

"It's okay," Brittany assured her kindly.

"Yeah, you don't even have to start a conversation," Santana chimed in. "This part is super easy. All you have to do is walk."

She grabbed Quinn by the shoulders and turned her to face where Finn stood a few yards away at his locker.

"Now," she murmured near Quinn's ear. "Give it your best strut."

Quinn lifted her head determinedly and began to stride in his direction. However, after the first few steps, her chin tucked down and her hair fell forward to conceal her face. Her shoulders turned inward and her spine curved.

"Dammit," Santana growled exasperatedly. "Get back here!"

Her friend heard her angry call and slunk back to the starting point. She chewed on her lip and shifted her weight from one leg to the other.

"What?" Quinn asked shakily. "That was okay, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, if you were headed to an appointment with your chiropractor!" Santana snapped. "Try this instead."

She forced Quinn's shoulders back and lifted her head. Brittany gently put the smaller girl's hands on her hips.

"Now, you saunter down that hall like it's a freaking runway," Santana commanded. "March!"

Again, Quinn set off to subtly pass Finn with her new façade of swagger. Brittany and Santana anxiously watched her progress from their spot near the corner. She seemed to be doing relatively well until a group of sophomores appeared and elbowed her out of their path on the way to Chemistry.

Her ankle gave out and she smashed noisily into a locker two spaces down from where Finn was gathering his supplies. He shoved the books back into place and immediately helped the girl to her feet.

"Hey, are you all right?" the boy asked worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Quinn replied as the back of her neck grew warm.

"Wait a minute," Finn said once he got a better look at her face. "It's you. The girl who was trying out for the Cheerios."

"That's me," she confirmed with a quick laugh. "And you're Finn Hudson, one of our new McKinley Titans."

"Well, since you already figured out my name, I think it's only fair that you tell me yours."

"And spare you the effort of having to find out? I worked to get my information, thank you very much. Now it's your turn."

Quinn flashed a pretty smile and walked back to where her friends were waiting.

"Holy shit!" Santana exclaimed. "Where did that come from?"

"I have no idea," Quinn confessed. "I just sort of heard the words in my head and said them. Did it work? Is he into me?"

"He's still looking now," Brittany told her after a quick glance at the boy.

Quinn's face lit up in an irrepressible grin.

"Well done, Grasshopper," Santana congratulated. "I think your hook just got a bite."

… … …

"It's like a castle!" Brittany grinned when she stepped into the Fabrays' front foyer. "How many people are in your family again?"

"Just three," Quinn responded while they removed their shoes and left them beside the front mat. "My sister Frannie lives about two hours away with her husband."

"This house is amazing!" Brittany complimented. "I'd get lost on the way to breakfast."

Quinn giggled.

"It was a pretty big change from our old place, but you get used to it after a while. Do you want me to show you around?"

Brittany bobbed her head enthusiastically.

"Okay. We'll start with the party room," Quinn said as they stepped into a hallway on the left and passed through the first doorway.

"That sounds fun," Brittany remarked.

"It isn't," Quinn replied glumly. "It's for card playing and Mom's meetings with the other company wives. The only thing it has in common with regular parties is the amount of booze everyone drinks."

They left that room and moved on to the next. This one, like the former, had a table at its center but also included a corner hutch full of dishes.

"The dining room," Quinn explained. "We have another one near the back of the house for special occasions but this is where we eat normally. The kitchen is through that doorway there. Across the hall from it are the laundry room and downstairs bathroom."

"A second dining room?" Brittany marveled. "But what is it for when it's not a special occasion?"

"Nothing," Quinn admitted as her cheeks turned slightly pink. "It's kind of pointless, honestly. Here, let me take you to the other side of the house."

They went back to the foyer and entered the first room on the right. Judging from the fireplace and furniture, this appeared to be the living room. Brittany wandered over to the mantelpiece and examined the photographs there.

"So these are your parents?"

"Mm-hmm," Quinn confirmed. "And that one there is of Frannie and her husband, Thomas."

"She looks like your mom," Brittany observed. "Except that her hair is brown instead of blonde."

A strange, nervous expression crossed Quinn's face and she abruptly changed the subject.

"We actually don't spend a lot of time in this room like we did in the one back home," she told her companion. "See, these couches are really light so they wouldn't hide stains very well. Mom freaks out if someone even sneezes in here. The Baldwin's nice, though."

"Wow," Brittany breathed quietly.

She walked toward the black piano with slow, hesitant steps and admired the way the lights overhead reflected off its surface. Her hands clasped behind her back as if resisting the urge to touch it. Instead, Brittany inched forward until she could see her own reflection. Quinn joined her and looked down at their darkened faces surrounded by the glow from the chandelier.

"It's so pretty," Brittany whispered.

"Yeah, it is," Quinn agreed with a smile.

"Can you play?"

A faint, self-conscious blush crept into Quinn's cheeks. However, she saw the eager expression on her friend's face and nodded.

"A little," she modestly admitted.

Brittany clapped excitedly.

"Will you play something now?"

She lifted her gaze from the surface of the piano to look the other teen in the eye. Quinn bit her lip while she thought it over, but she couldn't bring herself to tell Brittany no.

"All right, I'll do it. What do you want to hear?"

She settled onto the bench and carefully smoothed her skirt. To her surprise, her guest followed her and perched on the opposite end of the seat.

"Whichever song is your favorite," Brittany replied with a shrug.

Quinn hit her palms against her thighs thoughtfully while she searched her mind for a suitable tune. After a moment's consideration, she raised her hands to hover over the keys. Then she took a deep breath to calm her nerves and began.

As her fingers started to move with ease, she chanced a quick glance at the girl sitting beside her. Brittany's blue eyes were dancing and a broad, infectious grin was plastered across her face. When she noticed that Quinn was looking at her, she nodded encouragingly before returning her attention to the piano. Quinn allowed herself a tiny smile as Brittany continued to observe her playing. It was nice to perform for such an attentive audience.

Minutes later, when the piece came to a close, Quinn lightly lifted her fingertips from the ivories and rested them against her knees. She shifted to face Brittany and nervously waited for her friend's review.

"The Cinderella Song," Brittany stated simply while she beamed.

Quinn mirrored the expression and bobbed her head.

"A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes," she clarified. "She always was my favorite princess."

"You're really good," Brittany praised. "Maybe you can teach me sometime?"

She stood and offered to help the other girl rise to her feet.

"Sure," Quinn agreed as she accepted.

"Sorry my hands are kinda cold," Brittany apologized.

"Well, you know what they say," Quinn commented while she led the way out of the room. "Cold hands, warm heart."

Brittany frowned and followed her hostess toward the stairs.

"Does that work the other way around?" she asked.

"Hmm?"

"Cold hands, warm heart… so, warm hands, cold heart?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe," Quinn responded and ascended the steps.

"Santana has warm hands," Brittany murmured unhappily.

"Well, there you go," Quinn said as if that confirmed the theory.

Brittany's eyebrows furrowed while she considered this. After a moment, a twinkle of curiosity appeared in her eye. When they stepped up onto the landing, she reached out and slid her fingers over her friend's palm. Quinn came to a halt and fidgeted while she allowed the girl to make her assessment, already aware of the conclusion she would reach. Briefly, her companion's eyes flicked up to meet hers and confirm her permission. Then she extended her arm once more and held Quinn's hand.

It was burning.

Quinn gave her a fleeting smile and proceeded to the second floor. Her room was the first door on the right with one window looking out at the road and another with a view along the street. The décor was very soft, pink, and feminine. An assortment of stuffed animals on the bed showed signs of having been very loved over the course of the girl's childhood.

"You can sit down, if you'd like," Quinn offered.

They both settled onto the bed and Brittany's eyes suddenly spotted a blue clasped container on the nightstand.

"What's that?" she asked curiously.

"Oh," Quinn mumbled uncomfortably. "My glasses."

"Can I see them?"

"I don't know…"

"Just for a second," Brittany pleaded. "I won't break them or anything, I promise. I want to see the world the way you see."

Quinn laughed and shook her head.

"You already can," she replied. "Since I got my contacts, I see everything exactly the same way you do with your regular vision."

Still, Brittany protruded her lower lip and gestured in the direction of the thin case in her companion's hand. Quinn complied and handed it over to the other girl.

With an excited grin, Brittany removed the glasses from within and slid them into place. Her eyes went adorably crossed as she tried to look out through the lenses. Then her nose scrunched at the bridge and she narrowed her lids into a rather amusing squint, but to no avail.

"Are you sure these work?" she asked as she picked up a book off the other girl's nightstand and attempted to read the first page.

"Yes, they work," Quinn confirmed amusedly. "They just don't for you because your eyesight is already twenty-twenty."

"That's kinda cool, actually," Brittany remarked while she removed the glasses and handed them back. "The way it makes different people see different things. It's like magic. You know, where certain spots look like boring everyday places to people that don't believe but they're something really special to the ones who know how to find them."

That was quite possibly the most positive – albeit slightly confusing - spin on poor vision Quinn had ever heard and she wasn't entirely certain how to respond. She settled for simply nodding and placing the case on her bedside table next to the small tower of novels she had yet to read.

"I'm sorry there's not much to do around here," she said apologetically and her hands fell to her sides. "I don't really have a lot of company my age usually… or, you know, at all… So everything here is just kind of the stuff that I find fun and interesting. It's probably a little nerdy to anybody else, though."

"I think this room is great!" Brittany insisted. "Everything is so neat and pretty. It's like you."

"Really?" Quinn asked quietly as she felt a blush creeping up the sides of her face for what must have been the dozenth time.

"Yeah," Brittany agreed with a grin. "My room is almost never this tidy. My mom calls it 'an organized mess.' My dad just says I'm a clutter bug."

"That sounds nice, actually," Quinn told her. "I think I'd like to be a little scattered now and again, but my parents drilled it in my head that I have to keep things in order, you know? We're never sure when Dad is going to plan some important dinner or Mom will have unexpected guests from the neighborhood, so we have to make sure to keep up appearances."

She shrugged and plucked at a stray strand that was coming loose from her comforter.

"So," Quinn hazarded at last. "What do you want to do now?"

"Well, this is the first time we've gotten to just hang out away from school, so maybe we should get to know each other better," Brittany suggested.

"How would we do that?"

"We could go back and forth telling each other things we don't know yet," Brittany supplied. "But not regular stuff like 'I like macaroni and cheese.' Bigger stuff. Important things."

Quinn squirmed a little but reluctantly agreed.

"How do we keep track of whose turn it is?" she asked, still uncertain of whether she was comfortable with this game or not.

"How about we pass something to each other when we're finished?" Brittany suggested. "We could use your stuffed lamb."

"Okay," Quinn consented uneasily. "You go first."

"All right, little lamb," Brittany said to the stuffed animal in her hands. "Are you ready?"

"Isaac."

"What?"

"His name is Isaac," Quinn murmured. "The lamb."

"Oh, right," Brittany accepted without question. "Here we go, Isaac. First fact. Umm… Santana and I bury a time capsule in my yard every summer so we can remember what happened that year."

She passed the lamb to Quinn.

"I like that idea," Quinn said as she shifted the animal from one hand to the other. "I've never done anything like that, though."

"That's fine," Brittany said with an encouraging smile. "It doesn't have to be the same as mine. You can tell me whatever you want."

"Uh…," Quinn stalled and tried to think of something that wasn't too deeply personal. "My dad and I go to a ball game every year for his birthday."

"Awesome!" Brittany said. "Are you closer to him? More than your mom, I mean?"

"Definitely," Quinn replied. "Frannie was always the one who was 'buddies' with my mother so… Yeah."

She passed Isaac back to Brittany.

"Secrets now," Brittany determined, raising the stakes. "I can't fall asleep without a light on. I need to be able to see the rest of the room at least a little."

Again, the lamb was passed. Quinn worried her lip between her teeth.

"I'm claustrophobic," she stated simply.

Pass.

"I feed my cat scraps under the table."

Pass.

"I used to keep a flashlight in my pillowcase to read after Mom sent me to bed."

Pass.

"Sometimes my sister and I sneak out at night to look at the stars."

Pass.

"I haven't seen my sister in nine months."

Pass.

"I draw pictures for people in class instead of taking notes."

Pass.

"I haven't had my first kiss yet," Quinn confessed.

Pass.

"I have," Brittany murmured almost evasively.

Pass.

"You're the only real friend I've ever had."

It had tumbled out of Quinn's mouth without her making any conscious decision to say so. She winced and hoped she hadn't made herself sound too pathetic. Brittany's eyes widened.

"I am?" she asked gently.

"Yeah," Quinn confirmed and twiddled her thumbs.

"You're my best friend."

Surprised, Quinn snapped to attention. Then, with a self-pitying frown, she handed Isaac to Brittany.

"Why are you handing me your lamb?"

"I thought we were supposed to hold him when we told secrets."

"You being my friend doesn't count," Brittany said with a confused furrow of her brow. "Caring about someone should never be a secret."

"What about Santana?"

Brittany blanched.

"What do you mean?"

"Isn't she your best friend?"

The tension in Brittany's shoulders eased and she waved a dismissive hand.

"That's different. Besides, who says you can't have more than one?"

"I always thought it was just implied because of the 'best' part," Quinn replied.

"I don't want it to be a competition," Brittany concluded sadly. "I just want to have all the people I'm close to get along."

"Won't Santana be mad if you tell her?" Quinn asked. "I don't think she likes me very much."

"She will," Brittany assured her confidently. "If something is important to me, it's important to her."

"Even though she hates me?"

"She doesn't hate you," Brittany insisted. "She just needs to get to know you. Then she'll help. Don't worry, Quinn. We're going to get you lots more friends."

Then she placed her hand over her companion's and looked her in the eye.

"Just don't decide you don't like me best anymore, okay? I'd be sad."

Quinn shook her head in disbelief at the girl's readily-given devotion. Then, fearing that her friend might misinterpret this as her response, she hastily bobbed her head in agreement to Brittany's request. A broad grin spread across her face.

"Deal."

… … …

"So how are things going between you and Mike?" Santana asked tersely as she entered Brittany's bedroom.

"Fine," Brittany replied. "We're not making a big deal out of it this time. We're just each other's plus one, that's all."

"I see. And has he been putting his 'plus one' into your—"

"—Santana," Brittany cut her off exasperatedly. "I told you before. He and I don't do that anymore."

"Yet."

"Why do we always have to fight about this? Mike treats me better than Puck treats you but you're back with him anyway."

Santana pulled a file out of her purse and began to work on her nails.

"That's different. It's just for status. You've seen how many people Puck knows. He's influential. What's Mike going to get you?"

"Nothing," Brittany conceded. "But I don't want him to. I just like being with someone who treats me well."

"Oh, really? So well that he just stood there while that asshole Karofsky was calling you a dumb blonde?"

"Dave is a lot bigger than him," Brittany pointed out defensively. "Besides, I, um, took care of that on my own."

Santana immediately stopped filing. Her mouth hung open and her eyes widened.

"Oh, God," she said quietly. "Britt, you didn't…"

Brittany shrugged and rubbed her arm as she looked away.

"How could you? He's like a gorilla! The guy's likely to crush your pelvis."

"I was a little sore."

Santana ran a hand through her hair and breathed sharply through her flared nostrils.

"There's got to be some better way to shut people up when they bother you."

"Maybe, but it doesn't matter. _Really_," Brittany added when her friend still looked unconvinced. "Anything else is just a temporary fix. You can win one argument but they'll just say mean things about you again the next day. This way, they're more careful what they call me in case they – y'know – ever want to come back."

The other girl's jaw was working furiously while she bit back a thousand comments. Abruptly, Santana rose to her feet and started to leave the room.

"I'm going to use the bathroom," she growled through gritted teeth.

"Okay," Brittany permitted feebly. "C-Can I use your nail file while you're in there?"

"Sure, knock yourself out," Santana responded and tossed it into Brittany's lap.

She closed the door behind her with a slam and left her friend alone on the mattress. Brittany chewed on her lip and turned the file over in her hands. Bad as her companion's reaction had been, at least she hadn't told her everything. Dave Karofsky had not been the only one. It was early November and already there had been three.

Brittany had never meant for things to go that far but it had started to become her immediate defense mechanism. Some jock would begin showing off for his buddies and call her things just within earshot and, the next thing she knew, the girl found herself flirting with him. There was something comforting about being able to turn someone's laughing criticisms into flirtatious banter, even if what followed was… less-than-pleasant. Her skin crawled just thinking about them.

The first had been a junior named Ethan. For all the bravado he'd displayed among his teammates, the pale boy had been sloppy and fumbling once they reached the weight room. The smell of male sweat had been so strong it made her eyes water and the teen's overeager thrusting had nearly dislodged her from the bench press onto which he had thrown her.

Then there was Zecharia, a senior with coal black skin and scrutinizing eyes. He had chosen a supply closet for their rendezvous and slammed her so hard against the shelves that she had identical, horizontal bruises for several weeks.

Dave Karofsky had been the most desperate and the most verbal. He had grunted and muttered to himself all the while, bearing down upon her without a single word of conversation exchanged the entire time. Brittany had simply let him satisfy himself as he pleased without a word of protestation, focusing instead on the sharp pinpricks of the gravel under the bleachers as it dug into her back.

Now that those exchanges were over, they haunted her more than she had initially anticipated. She glanced down and saw that she had been unconsciously twisting her sheet around her palms. The weight of this secret had simply become too much to bear.

The question was: how to release it?

She couldn't possibly tell Santana about what she'd done. Brittany already felt disappointed enough in herself without another despairing guilt trip from her best friend. Parents were not an option either. Again, her attention fell to the file in her hand. Then her gaze lifted to the rest of the room.

Struck by a sudden moment of inspiration, she crawled toward the foot of her bed and experimentally sawed the file over the white bar that connected the two end posts. It left a faint groove and peeled away some of the paint. Encouraged by this successful test run, Brittany repeated the motion until she had left a full circle around it, rather like the rings inside a tree trunk. The first mark she made would be the heaviest, thick and dark, to acknowledge the tragedy of which she refused to speak. The second was light, freeform and dreamy, just as her hazy summer memory of Mike had become.

Santana… No. She would not be among this number. What they had shared could not possibly be compared to these. It had been freeing and furtive and fragile. Those moments with Santana she would keep to herself with each touch perfectly preserved in the back of her mind.

So now on to the rest: light, dark, medium. Five rings, four of which had been obtained in just as many months.

Brittany wiped away the single tear that had escaped the corner of her eye and cleared the paint chips off the file. Then she composed herself and prepared for Santana to reenter the room, purposely smoothing her features as if nothing had happened.

… … …

"I just don't understand it," Quinn sighed miserably. "Finn and I have been talking for months. Why hasn't he said anything? Do you think maybe he thinks we're just friends?"

"Hard to say," Santana admitted around a mouthful of popcorn. "The kid's pretty dense so he may be a little slow on the uptake."

The three friends had gathered at Quinn's house during winter vacation for a sleepover that doubled as a reassessment of tactics.

"You don't think there's someone else, do you?" Quinn fretted.

"No," Brittany shook her head adamantly. "The only cheerleader I've ever caught him looking at is you."

This made Quinn beam happily while Santana made a gagging noise.

"Touching as that is, do you mind if we find another subject? Your pasty paramour is turning my stomach."

Quinn rolled her eyes and nodded agreeably.

"Sure. What would you rather discuss instead?"

"Last time I was here, Quinn and I shared secrets," Brittany stated helpfully. "Why don't you tell her a little bit about yourself?"

Santana shot Brittany an ungrateful look and folded her arms over her chest.

"All right," she agreed tersely. "What exactly do you want to know?"

"It doesn't have to be anything major," Quinn clarified hurriedly. "Why not some basic stuff? Do you have any pets?"

"Nope. My little brother is allergic."

"Oh, okay, that gives me a follow-up question! How many siblings do you have?"

Santana's expression immediately darkened. To Quinn's dismay, she appeared to have already touched upon a sore subject. However, before she could take it back, her companion gave a quiet reply.

"Two. I had two."

"Had?" Quinn repeated cautiously.

Santana nodded. Brittany reached up from the floor to hold the girl's hand where it dangled over the bed and suddenly Quinn regretted speaking at all.

"W-what happened?" she stammered.

It took a few tries for Santana's mouth to finally form the name.

"Tony," she choked out at last. "My brother, Antonio, was in the army. He was… well, as a kid, he was a complete ass, to be honest. Then we got older and he was my biggest advocate, you know? He believed in me. I remember, right before he was scheduled to go overseas, he came back home to say goodbye. He crouched down a little so we were eye-to-eye and he told me, 'Hang in there, Tiger. I'll be back before you know it.' It felt like a piece of me was leaving with him. That was part of my identity; I was Tony's Tiger and I didn't care how lame that nickname sounded. The only person in my house that I could talk to and be myself around had left and I was lost without him."

She paused to run a fingertip under her dampened eyelids and sniffled.

"I guess I've got to give him props, though, because he did come home quickly like he promised. The only trouble was he turned up in a box. The jeep he and a few others had been riding in flipped on a steep road and went over a cliff. All but one were dead on impact. The last passed away a few days later from his injuries."

Santana's eyes were rimmed with red now and she couldn't bring herself to make eye contact with either one of them. Stricken by guilt, Quinn hoisted herself onto the bed and wrapped Santana in a comforting hug. At first, her companion bristled as if she might push her away but then she leaned into the embrace and allowed herself to be consoled.

"Well, since we're talking about our past tonight, maybe I should go next," Brittany said with a breakable-sounding laugh as she rose to her feet and tapped her thighs with her hands.

The stiffness returned to Santana's shoulders as quickly as it had gone.

"Britt-Britt, don't…"

"Really, it's okay," Brittany said confidently. "I trust Quinn more than anybody we know. I want to tell her."

"Whatever it is, it can't be worse than this," Quinn tried to protest while she smoothed Santana's hair.

The other two girls exchanged a look and said nothing.

"What?" Quinn questioned with rising panic in her voice. "Please, Brittany. Say something."

Brittany's eyes closed and her hands clenched lightly into fists.

"When I was twelve, I went to cheer camp," she recited as if she were giving a report at the front of a classroom. "It was just supposed to be for five weeks in the summer but, thirteen days before I was scheduled to go home, something happened."

Quinn waited breathlessly while Brittany gathered her courage and opened her eyes.

"That night," she continued. "One of the student camp counselors, a boy named Gavin Larkspur, came into my tent and h-he… He raped me."

The weakness in Brittany's mouth and the visible tremor that passed through her limbs hit Quinn like a kick to the gut. Seeing someone as bright and joyful as she knew Brittany to be burdened by such a scarring memory broke her heart. Unable to stop herself from moving, Quinn sprang from the bed and enfolded her friend in her arms just as the taller girl started to sob.

"His hair was like sand and his eyes were so dark it was like they went on forever," Brittany mumbled against Quinn's shoulder. "For a while after that, I kept waking up yelling for my mom and it wasn't until she was sitting beside me that I realized I had dreamt he was hovering over me. I started sleeping with a light on just to keep away the shadows. It helped a little but sometimes I still see him."

Quinn led her over to the bed and the three of them sat in a circle with their knees touching. Stillness fell over them for a few minutes while they simply listened to the December wind howl outside the windows. They rubbed distractedly at their chilled limbs and said nothing for a long time.

"My turn now, huh?" Quinn feebly concluded.

"Only if you want to," Brittany said patiently.

Santana flailed in objection.

"After all that?" she demanded.

"She shouldn't have to talk about things if it upsets her."

"Screw that. It's confession time, Fabray. Cards on the table."

Brittany was squeezing Santana's arm worriedly but Quinn waved a dismissive hand.

"It's all right, Brittany. She's right; it's only fair. Besides, if I can't share this with you two, I don't think there's anyone else in my life I could trust."

They both nodded slowly. Brittany's face was watchful and caring while Santana was leaning forward eagerly in spite of herself, quietly hoping for the unexpected.

"I'm not who you think I am," Quinn began shakily. "Or, at least, I'm the same person but not the way that you know me to be."

Her friends regarded her quizzically and awaited her explanation.

Suddenly overcome by anxiety and embarrassment, Quinn pressed her hands to her forehead to hide her face and expounded upon her previous statement.

"My real first name isn't Quinn. It's Lucy. Back in Bellville, I was the total opposite to what I am now. I was fat; I had auburn hair, braces, and no friends. No one wanted anything to do with me unless they got bored and went looking for someone to harass. 'Lucy Caboosey' they called me," she recalled with a short, bitter laugh. "That by itself wouldn't have been so bad but they terrorized me. I couldn't hang out with them, talk to them, or anything. They made it as though I didn't exist. Then, when even that wasn't enough, they locked me away. The boiler room, the janitor's closet… Wherever was handy. After a few times of finding me trapped after hours, the custodian felt sorry for me and taught me how to pick locks in case he was ever not around to help."

Both of the other girls' faces were etched with empathy and concern. Santana, however, accompanied this reaction with a soft cracking of her knuckles.

"Anyway, that's why I'm claustrophobic," Quinn pressed on after she had cleared her throat. "When Dad moved us all out here, it was a chance to start over and wipe the slate clean. I was determined to leave Lucy behind me. My braces got removed at the start of summer break, thank God, and I started taking gymnastics and dancing. I literally worked my ass off and then opted take it one step further and change my hair. I decided to go blonde and my mom offered to get her hair colored with me. Then I asked everyone to start calling me Quinn and, well, here I am."

She rubbed her knees and exhaled sharply.

"It's seriously no big deal compared to what you two have been through but it's the biggest secret I have to share."

Brittany reached out and stilled Quinn's fidgeting hands.

"It's a big deal to us because it was a big deal to you," she stated firmly. "Those people hurt you, Quinn. They changed your life. How could that not matter to your best friends?"

"Those kids should just count their lucky stars I wasn't there to deal out a little retribution," Santana snarled.

Quinn laughed a little and pulled them both into a quick hug.

"You two are the best."

Santana was the first to break the embrace and feigned an exaggerated yawn.

"Well, after that delightful sob fest, I think maybe the three of us should call it a night."

"You're right," Quinn agreed while she rubbed at her eyes. "I am pretty exhausted."

"Me, too," Brittany murmured sleepily and pouted.

She shuffled over to her duffel bag and plunked down onto the floor. Her hands rummaged around inside until they produced a green tank top and red shorts. Quinn looked away while Brittany tugged them on, only to be met with the sight of Santana casually removing various articles of clothing until she was standing in her blue bra and underwear.

"Oh, sorry," Santana apologized when she noticed how her friend's eyes bulged. "I probably should have given you a heads up about that. I get really sweaty and overheated during the night so I usually just sleep like this. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Quinn shrugged in a vain attempt to sound nonplussed. "No problem."

She thought of her own frilly nightgown still concealed in the closet and decided it might be best to make an impromptu wardrobe change. With a secret, steadying breath, she peeled off her layers down to her t-shirt and underwear and tried to look completely comfortable.

Brittany staggered past Santana to the bed and climbed up to settle on Quinn's left. Santana circled the mattress and took the empty space to her right. The two girls seemed to doze almost immediately but Quinn was pinned in the middle with eyes wide open. A few moments later, with a contented and puppy-like snuffle, Brittany nestled their heads together and draped her arm over Quinn's thigh. Santana, who was already breathing shallowly, pulled her new friend in to snuggle closer.

The tangle of limbs was unfamiliar but Quinn could not deny that she now felt utterly and assuredly safe. An expression of muted joy graced her features and she wrapped both arms affectionately around Brittany. Then, with one last happy sigh, she fell asleep.

… … …

"Bye, guys! I'll see you at school on Monday!" Quinn called from the doorway the following morning.

She closed the door and walked into the living room to watch her friends drive away through the window. To her surprise, she found the couch occupied by both of her parents.

"How did the sleepover go, angel?" her father asked genially.

"It was really fun, Daddy. I think they really like me."

"That's great, Quinnie," her mother responded with a relieved expression. "I was praying things would work out for you this time."

"I'm not so sure about that Santana girl, though," Mr. Fabray remarked. "She seems a bit wild."

"She's just kind of opinionated," Quinn explained.

"They certainly make an unlikely duo, don't they?" Mrs. Fabray chuckled. "When they came downstairs with you for breakfast, they looked like the little spirits that sit on people's shoulders in old cartoons, the ones that help them debate right and wrong."

"Just see to it that they don't steer you the wrong way, sweetie," her father fretted. "I don't want them leading my baby girl to lose her innocence."

"I won't, Daddy, I promise. You don't have to worry about me."

… … …

The next few months blurred into one another with relative ease. Little in their lives had changed: Sue was still loud and critical, the older girls were still condescending, and Finn was still dragging his feet in his interactions with Quinn.

His hesitance made Quinn increasingly agitated and desperate as the end of the school year drew nearer. Brittany did her best to reassure the girl but Santana grew weary of her constant worrying. In the middle of April, with the assistance of Puck, she decided to call the boy out on his dillydallying.

Late that afternoon, she found the two teens hanging out behind the school on a ledge near a dumpster, talking casually while Puck snuck a joint out of his back pocket and lit it. Santana nodded to her boyfriend and he gave her a conspiratorial wink before Finn looked up and noticed her approach.

"Hey, Santana," he greeted lazily. "What's up?"

"Nothing much," Santana replied as she swiped the joint from Puck's hand and took a drag. "But from what I hear, things are starting to look up for you. It sounds like you're poised to become the next quarterback after Avery graduates in May."

"Yeah, maybe," Finn acknowledged bashfully. "Who told you that?"

"I hear things," Santana shrugged. "The point is, now that you're about to become King of the Football Field, it's time you stop putting your queen on the back burner."

"What are you talking about?"

"Quinn, genius. She's a likely candidate to be chosen as the next captain of the Cheerios. Not if I have anything to say about it, mind you, but Coach Sylvester favors her. If she gets captain and you get quarterback, all your pretty little stars of fate will have aligned and you'll be an even bigger moron than I thought if you don't make a move."

"She's freaking hot, man," Puck seconded and, after noticing the sharp look Santana shot him, hastened to add. "And she's totally into you. If you don't do something soon, you'll lose her, dude."

Santana handed his joint back to him and gave Finn a stern look.

"So stop horsing around and ask her out before one of us does it for you."

Finn nodded obediently and responded with a feeble smile.

"Okay, I'll try. Just give me some time to find the right moment."

… … …

It was the last Cheerios practice before the end of the year. Quinn, conscious of the fact that she was under consideration for captain, had given the routines her all and proudly shown off the strength and balance she had mastered over the past ten months. By the time the final whistle blew, she was utterly exhausted. She walked toward the distant locker room but halted when a hand gently caught her arm.

"Puck?" Quinn marveled. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm on guide duty," he announced proudly. "I'm here to usher you to your seat."

He extended his arm and put on his most gentlemanly smile.

"For what?" she laughed. "I've got to hit the showers. After that, I can sit down in my mom's car."

"Hold that thought," Puck urged. "You might not want to run off just yet. Here, come with me."

Reluctantly, Quinn allowed him to lead her to the top of the stands and settle onto the uppermost seat. Then Puck stood on the bleacher, put his fingers in his mouth, and emitted a high-pitched whistle.

The Cheerios filtered in from the sidelines and quickly formed a pyramid. Then they began to cheer in unison.

"_A Breadstix bite!_

_When? Tonight!_

_We'll chow down!_

_Just say_

_All right, all right!_"

Quinn buried her face in her hands and laughed uncontrollably.

"That is the cheesiest thing I've ever heard," she chuckled under her breath.

"I helped him with the words, 'cause Finn sucks at rhyming," Puck boasted. "Here, look up. You're gonna miss the big finale."

The pyramid collapsed smoothly back to the ground and the girls stepped aside to reveal Finn standing in the center of the field with a rose in his hand.

"Quinn Fabray, will you please go to dinner with me?" he shouted.

"I'd love to," Quinn replied softly, suddenly unable to shout when she realized that all the Cheerios' eyes were on her as well.

Finn looked to his companion desperately.

"She says yes!" Puck called back and threw his hands into the air.

The cheerleaders all hollered in celebration and the new couple beamed at one another while Puck ran off to trumpet his best friend's success to anyone who would listen.

… … …

"So let me get this straight," Santana said in an undertone as she and Brittany walked along the crowded hallway. "You're going to the school counselor because you turned your locker into a house for a baby bird?"

"Yeah," Brittany sighed unhappily. "I saw the bird on the ground and I just wanted to give him back to his mommy. I wrapped my hands in my Cheerios jacket because they say not to touch them or the mom won't take them back but, when I lifted him up to the nest, I saw that everyone else was gone. No momma and no babies. They just left him all alone."

Santana smiled affectionately at Brittany's all-too-familiar sympathy for animals and shook her head.

"So somebody snitched on you and now they want you to have a talk with the shrink?"

"I guess so."

"Well, don't worry," Santana told her with a nudge to the ribs. "There's nothing wrong with your head, so you'll be out of there in no time."

They arrived at the door to the office and Santana patted her shoulder.

"Good luck," she said kindly. "I'll be here for you after it's over."

Brittany hesitantly poked her head through the doorway and saw a smiling, red haired woman beaming at her from behind a desk.

"You must be Brittany Pierce," she greeted sweetly. "Come on in."

The girl walked a few steps and settled into a vacant chair.

"What do I have to talk to you about?" she asked warily.

"Oh, there's no need to be worried," the woman assured her. "You're not in any kind of trouble. We're just going to chat for a little bit."

Her extremely large brown eyes made Brittany uneasy, so she broke contact with the counselor's gaze and read her name plaque instead: _Ms. Emma Pillsbury_.

Ms. Pillsbury shuffled some pamphlets to break the silence and then folded her hands primly in front of her.

"So," she began softly. "I've been told that you recently took it upon yourself to look after a baby robin?"

"He was homeless," Brittany explained. "I found him abandoned outside."

"I'm sure he was very grateful to be discovered by someone who has such an open heart," Emma smiled encouragingly. "Not everyone would have taken pity on that poor little guy."

"Somebody needed to take care of him," Brittany shrugged.

"And someone will," Ms. Pillsbury nodded. "He has been sent to a very pretty park not far from here where some ornithologists will help reintroduce him to his natural habitat."

"That's good," Brittany said happily. "So, can I go now?"

"Not right this minute," Emma told her apologetically. "While we have settled everything for the bird, I'm still a little concerned about you."

"Me?" Brittany queried incredulously. "Why?"

"When they asked me to speak to you, I took a look at your old files and they led me to believe it was possible this bird rescue was more than just a magnanimous gesture."

"I don't understand."

"Brittany," Emma said gently. "Do you think maybe, when you found that baby bird all alone, defenseless in the wild, that it reminded you of someone? That maybe you saw yourself a little?"

Slowly, Brittany began to comprehend where the conversation was going and she gripped her chair tightly.

"Ms. Pillsbury…," she started to protest.

"No one was there to rescue you in your time of need. So you took it upon yourself to save another living creature when you saw it in distress."

Brittany blinked rapidly as her body experienced a rapid succession of hot flashes and cold chills.

"Thi-this… This has nothing to do with that," she muttered through the fog. "I have to go."

She darted hurriedly from the office. As she passed through the doorway, she nearly ran headlong into a petite brunette who was nervously waiting outside with a stack of books clutched to her chest.

"Sorry," Brittany murmured distractedly.

Then she found Santana waiting near the water fountain and led her away without a word.

… … …

"I wish we hadn't started dating so close to the end of the school year," Quinn sighed as she and Finn walked arm-in-arm after their last class for the day. "I'm scared that a summer apart will make you forget me."

"Are you kidding?" Finn laughed. "You'll have to change your number to stop hearing from me. Starting our relationship now is gonna be awesome because we'll have all that free time to go places together. No homework or practice to get in the way."

Quinn smiled and held his arm even tighter.

"I still can't believe I've gotten so lucky," she confessed.

"Me, either. It took us a while to get together but, now that we are, nothing's going to stand in our way."

As they passed the counselor's office, a distinctly frazzled looking freshman bustled out the doorway and nearly crossed their path.

"Oh!" the girl exclaimed with a hand pressed to her heart. "Forgive me. I didn't see you coming."

The couple nodded their acceptance of her apology but did not have the chance to verbally respond before Ms. Pillsbury appeared at the entrance to her office.

"I'll make sure they get that lock fixed right away," she assured the petite girl who had just spoken to them. "You just focus on getting adjusted to your new surroundings and I'll take care of the rest. You're going to have a great time here, I'm sure of it. Welcome to McKinley, Rachel."


	5. The Right Answers to the Wrong Questions

"Motocross!"

"Even with the jazz hands and the goofy grin, you can't make me think it's a good idea," Santana asserted and put her hands on her hips as she looked up at her friend.

Brittany, who was high up on a branch overhead, dropped her arms back down to her sides and pouted.

"It does sound kinda dangerous, Britt," Quinn admitted apologetically.

"It's really cool, you guys. You should come watch me," Brittany insisted.

"The only thing people would see if I showed up was me dragging you off that bike," Santana replied.

"Well, since we're trying to get each other involved in things," Quinn segued while swinging back and forth on the rope ladder to the treehouse. "I did have something I wanted to ask the two of you about today."

"Oh, God," Santana rolled her eyes. "Not the damned Christ Crusaders thing again!"

"Please!" Quinn pleaded and clasped her hands together. "There were only three of us at every meeting and, now that Catherine and Angela graduated, it will just be me! I can't be president of a club that doesn't exist!"

"It might not be too bad," Brittany shrugged. "If we already knew everybody in there."

"Thank you," Quinn said gratefully and then turned to Santana. "What do you think?"

"I think I get my share of Bible thumping every Sunday when I go to church with my Abuela and I sure as hell don't need it at school."

Quinn smacked her hand against her forehead.

"We could get some of the other Cheerios to do it," she mumbled plaintively. "And maybe even some of the football guys. Finn said he'd talk to them for me."

Santana guffawed.

"Yeah, right," she sneered. "Finn only agreed to that because he's hoping to get in your pants."

Quinn blushed deeply.

"No, he isn't," she protested. "Just because you and Puck…"

Her voice trailed off when she saw the way Santana's shoulders stiffened and Brittany's expression darkened.

"…Do what you do," Quinn finished tactfully. "Doesn't mean that's how Finn works. He and I haven't done anything, really. He holds my hand; that's all. It's simple and sweet."

"Yeah, if you live in freaking Pleasantville," Santana disputed. "I know he's a little slow because this is first time around the block but, trust me, they learn how to drive quickly enough."

Quinn huffed and folded her arms.

"I think I'm ready!" Brittany called down to them, temporarily ending their dispute. "Can you toss me the rope?"

Santana picked it up off the ground while Quinn climbed to her place midway up the ladder. Then Santana tossed the heavy rope to Quinn, who in turn threw it to Brittany. Brittany furrowed her brow in concentration and deftly tied the rope around the tree branch. Once the knot was secure, she and Quinn lowered themselves back to the ground and surveyed her handiwork.

"Okay, now the seat," Brittany concluded.

She walked across the yard and disappeared around the corner of her father's shed briefly. A moment later, she guided an old spare tire into view. Brittany rolled it across the ground in front of her, hand over hand, until she arrived back at the tree. Then she had Santana and Quinn hold the tire aloft while she tied it to the other end of the rope with a similar knot.

"Brittany!" Quinn suddenly exclaimed when she saw her friend's back beneath the tank top she was wearing. "You have scrapes all over you. Is that from the tree bark?"

"Uh, no," Brittany responded quietly as her eyes flicked over to Santana. "I, um, gave my cat a bath."

She grabbed the tire and swung it with a smile on her face.

"So, want to give it a try?" Brittany offered.

Quinn nodded eagerly and climbed into place. Santana and Brittany positioned themselves a few yards away from their respective sides of the tire and pushed their friend back and forth between them.

"You know, our one month anniversary is coming up," Quinn announced. "Mine and Finn's."

"And do you and your proper gentleman have any romantic plans?" Santana asked.

"He's taking me to Breadstix."

"Well, at least the food will be good," Santana remarked. "Just don't let them jip you. You're supposed to have a full basket of breadsticks at all times. Sometimes the waitresses cop out."

Quinn nodded and shot a quick glance at Brittany. They both smiled, all-too-familiar with Santana and her high expectations when it came to food service.

"I'm really excited," Quinn confessed. "It's going to be so special."

"Do you think he'll finally make a move?" Santana asked and licked the inside of her upper lip with a smirk.

Quinn's eyes bulged in alarm.

"She means a kiss," Brittany explained.

"Oh. I don't know," Quinn shrugged.

She leaned her cheek against her hand, looked up at the clouds, and sighed dreamily.

"But, I have to admit, it would be really nice."

Brittany beamed at her friend and nodded while ignoring Santana in her peripheral vision, who was clutching at her throat and pretending to gag.

… … …

"Congratulations!" Finn raised his glass of Coke and smiled. "Captain of the Cheerios! You got it. Perfect news to start a perfect date."

Quinn grinned and rearranged her silverware to hide how elated she was.

"I had to cover the receiver just so I could squeal for a second without Coach Sylvester hearing me," she laughed. "This is seriously beyond a dream come true. It's completely surreal."

"Well, you deserve it," Finn assured her. "You worked hard this past year to prove yourself."

"I didn't think you'd noticed," Quinn blushed.

"Hard to miss someone as beautiful as you cheering me on," he replied. "After every touchdown I made, I was listening for your voice."

Unable to speak, Quinn sipped from her drink and tried to avoid the intensity of her boyfriend's gaze.

"I'm not the only one with big news," she pointed out in an effort to divert attention. "Let's not forget you've been made quarterback."

Finn breathed deeply and tapped the table with anxious hands.

"Trust me; it definitely won't slip my mind. It's a lot of responsibility."

"You're up for the challenge," Quinn concluded with a confident nod. "All of the guys like you. It won't be as difficult to lead a team that already gives you their respect."

The boy brightened.

"You really think so?"

"I know so," Quinn affirmed. "This is going to be our year to win."

Finn smiled and shook his head.

"Remind me again how I managed to get a girl like you?"

"My memory's a little fuzzy, but I seem to remember some kind of poem being involved," Quinn teased.

"Yeah, probably not my most original idea," he chuckled.

"Maybe not, but it's the thought that counts."

They finished the rest of their meal in amiable silence. Finn paid for both of them and then they departed. As the two strolled along the sidewalk, they linked arms and took in the bright blue of the late June sky.

"So, it's been brought to my attention that somebody has a birthday coming up in a couple of months," Finn remarked casually.

"Who told you that?"

"A little birdy."

"I see; and does that little birdy happen to talk to another little birdy by the name of Santana?" Quinn guessed.

"I think they might nest in the same tree," Finn replied.

Quinn snorted at the rather accurate assessment and nodded.

"What makes you mention it now?"

"Just wanting to give myself time to think of something special," Finn shrugged. "I can't go dropping the ball on your Sweet Sixteen. One of your old boyfriends might show up with something awesome and win you back from me."

Suddenly, the real point of the conversation had manifested itself. Quinn smirked knowingly and tried not to giggle at Finn's failed attempt at subtlety.

"I've never had any other boyfriends," she told him with a gentle nudge. "You're the first."

"Then that means you've probably never been kissed."

They had come to a halt on the street corner by the flower shop. The scent of oleander and marigolds drifted through the open door to where they stood. Quinn looked up through her lashes and held her breath while waiting to see what his next move would be.

"No, I haven't," she confirmed.

Finn wiped his palms on his jeans and fidgeted nervously.

"Good, so you won't notice if I mess this up," he mumbled.

Then he cupped the back of her head and brought their lips together without another word. Quinn's eyes widened at first, but then she relaxed against his chest and lightly kissed him back.

After a moment, they broke apart and laughed self-consciously. Neither knew quite what to say, so they linked their arms and walked again with the quiet settling around them comfortably.

By the time they reached the next intersection, Finn's smile proved too irrepressible for him to hide any longer.

"That was my first kiss, too," he murmured as though he expected her to be surprised.

Quinn laughed again and hugged his arm.

"Yeah, I kinda guessed."

They wrapped their arms around each other's waists and crossed the road to the continuation of the sidewalk beyond. Their steps led them in the general direction of the park and, as the trees came into view, Finn gave his final comment on the matter with a tender tightening of his grip on her side.

"I'm glad it was with you."

… … …

"You know, it figures," Santana groused as she flopped back against her bed. "I should've known Ms. Sylvester would choose Quinn over me in a heartbeat. She's got the look."

She stared up at the ceiling with her lower lip protruded and her brow furrowed. Brittany frowned and poked Santana's leg lightly.

"Don't make that face," she pleaded. "I know what you're thinking. You're pretty, too, Santana. You'd have made just as good a captain as Quinn."

The other girl did not look convinced.

"I still think it's complete crap that she didn't consider you for the position," Santana remarked instead. "You're blonde and beautiful, too, plus you can kick Quinn's ass at any routine any day. It doesn't make sense."

Brittany blushed quietly at the compliment but shrugged indifferently.

"It's like Coach said," Brittany scrunched up her face as she tried to remember the exact words. "I 'lack the necessary leadership qualities.' Besides, no one would have listened to me anyway, even if I tried to boss them around. They don't take me seriously. Nobody does, except you and Quinn."

"Well, it's their loss," Santana grumbled. "You could get us that win Sue wants at Nationals; I know you could."

Brittany gave her a grateful look and put a hand on Santana's knee. She idly ran her palm along her calf and massaged the muscles with her fingertips.

"What are you doing?" Santana raised an eyebrow. "You're likely to end up with scrapes all over your hands. I haven't shaved for my date yet, so I'm still like a freaking porcupine."

"No you're not," Brittany argued and examined the skin pensively. "A hedgehog, maybe."

Santana's jaw dropped as she pretended to feel wounded. She aimed a kick at Brittany's hip and shrieked when the girl swung her body over to retaliate. Brittany straddled her hips and grinned as she waited to see if Santana would make another strike. The other girl looked up at her unblinkingly with her lip caught between her teeth.

"You win," Santana whispered.

Brittany beamed triumphantly and kissed her.

"Sorry," she murmured. "I couldn't help it."

"It's okay," Santana replied. "It's just us, so I don't mind."

"You mean it would be okay if I did it again?"

"Sure, why not?" Santana shrugged. "I'm feeling pretty crappy after my over-the-phone rejection. Puck won't be here until five-thirty. I could stand to have a little fun while I'm waiting."

Brittany's face lit up and she closed the distance between them again. It wasn't the strongest excuse Santana had ever constructed but, if it meant she could have the girl near her, she wasn't about to complain.

… …

Brittany took the stairs two at a time as she made her way toward the Lopez family's kitchen on the ground floor. Her oversized t-shirt hung loosely off one shoulder and grew gradually damp from the poorly-dried, difficult-to-reach places on her back. She hummed happily as she rounded the corner at the bottom of the steps, but her bare feet squeaked against the hardwood floor when she spotted someone in the sitting room. It was Puck.

With a disbelieving shake of her head, the girl took a few steps in his direction and looked at him confusedly.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh, hey, Brittany," he greeted casually as if he lived there. "Sorry if I startled you. The front door was unlocked so I just kinda let myself in."

"Santana said she wasn't expecting you for another hour," Brittany frowned.

"I finished my last job early and deciding to swing by since this was on the way."

She nodded absently and wandered through the doorway to her left that led into the dining room.

"Are you thirsty?" she called over her shoulder, eager for the chance to get out of having to carry on a conversation with him. "I can get you something from the kitchen."

"Sure," he agreed genially. "That'd be great."

Brittany padded through a second doorway into the room she had indicated and opened the fridge. As the cool air hit her legs, she became suddenly aware of how revealing the shorts she had on really were – far more than she would have wanted Puck to see if she'd had a say in the matter. Stalling intentionally for as long as she could, the girl perused the available sodas while she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"How about Pepsi?" she called from where she stood. "Or, if you don't like that, we have Mountain Dew."

"Pepsi's fine," he replied from the comfort of the couch.

Reluctantly, she returned with a can of his beverage of choice and stood awkwardly a few feet away while he opened it. The chill from the refrigerator had clung to her skin, leaving goosebumps along her flesh. Brittany tugged the t-shirt away from her chest to prevent it from sticking and wished she'd had the presence of mind to put on a bra before coming downstairs. Instead, she satisfied her concerns by folding her arms across her torso. At least the top wasn't white.

"So," Puck asked when he had taken several chugs from his drink. "Where's Santana?"

"In the shower," Brittany replied while avoiding his gaze.

Suddenly aware of her dripping hair, Brittany tried to wring out her ponytail as nonchalantly as she could. Puck took no notice and merely looked back down at his hands. Mercifully, Santana finally arrived, but not in a state of dress that either of them expected.

"Brittany," she called as she came into the room, clearly unaware of Puck for the moment. "Would you mind grabbing me a bottle of – Oh, hey."

Brittany could hardly suppress her smirk when Puck nearly choked on his soft drink. He snorted and then pinched his nose against the immediate burn, which only increased her amusement.

Santana must have left the bathroom the minute she had dried and straightened her hair, because that was the only part of her person that was ready for her date later that night. Small droplets were still sliding along her limbs and a sheer robe was tied loosely around her naked body. Puck was clearly having a hard time tearing his eyes away from the slight gap in the fabric, but then she tugged it closed and he was denied the glimpse he sought.

"Puck's early," Brittany offered belatedly, stating the obvious to fill the awkward silence.

"So I see," Santana returned. "Well, you wait here and I'll try to step it up a notch, I guess. Then we can get this show on the road."

She turned and started to leave the room when she realized that Brittany was hot on her heels. Santana gave her companion a brief, reprimanding glance. However, the other teen simply would not be left alone in the room with the boy again. After setting her mouth in a thin, determined line, Brittany silently prevailed upon her friend to let her lead the way back upstairs.

When the two girls had finally gotten Santana ready, they returned to the sitting room to fetch Puck. In the time it had taken Santana to finish her preparations, Brittany had gotten properly dressed and was now in a lightweight hoodie and jeans. The boy rose to his feet and set the can aside.

"You ready to get out of here?"

"Yep," Santana replied as she allowed her fists to bounce lightly against her thighs. "Ready when you are."

He crossed the room and slipped his hand around her waist. Brittany's lip curled and her nose wrinkled at the bridge, but this went unnoticed since she was standing behind them. The three made their way toward the front door and stepped out into the early evening air.

"You can get home all right, can't you, Britt?" Santana asked over Puck's shoulder.

"Yeah," Brittany replied with an easy-going shrug. "I'll just give my dad a call and have him come by in a few minutes to pick me up. I'll come back later to get my stuff."

Santana slid into the passenger's side and waited for Puck to close the door. Before it clicked into place, Brittany called out, "I'll see you after."

Her friend waved through the glass while Puck went around the car to get in behind the steering wheel. As they pulled out of the driveway, Brittany followed the vehicle's progress until she reached the mailbox. When the boy's side was facing where she stood, she lifted her first two fingers to her temple and gave him a brief salute.

Puck's brow furrowed at the way Brittany's jaw clenched and her eyes conveyed a message that he couldn't comprehend. All the same, he nodded curtly and then pulled away. Satisfied that at least she had unnerved him enough to get the rusty wheels in his head turning, Brittany shoved her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie and pulled out her cell phone. She watched the boy's car disappear around the corner as she heard a faint ringing through the receiver.

Given enough time, maybe he would understand that the salute had been a means of throwing down the gauntlet, of wishing her opponent luck – because he was going to need it. Without speaking any of the words that Santana had made it clear she was not allowed to voice, she had found a way to put forth the challenge.

_May the best man win_.

… … …

Quinn hooked her i-Pod to the belt loop of her shorts and used the mirror in the foyer to fix her ponytail. She stepped back and appraised her appearance before putting one of the buds in her right ear and leaving the other to dangle so she'd remain aware of her surroundings.

She locked the door behind her and jogged out to the sidewalk, turning right to head up Dudley Road and round the corner at Robinett. Her feet pounded out the rhythm to the song and she hummed occasionally. It was a bright, clear day with no passing cars to disrupt her solitude. The water bottle in the pocket of her shorts sloshed audibly with each stride and, as the sunlight streamed down without the filter of clouds or trees, it became increasingly difficult to ignore. By the time she reached Birch Hill, she had to succumb to her thirst and pause for a quick breather.

After she had finished drinking, she poured a little of the water into her palm and ran it over her hair. It was at that moment that the first sound interrupted her quiet run: a bicycle bell. She looked around and saw a girl pedaling up the hill toward the end of the road across from where she stood. Her face looked a little familiar, but it wasn't until she drew closer that Quinn realized it was the girl she had seen coming out of Ms. Pillsbury's office at the end of the previous school year.

The teen backpedaled once to come to a halt when she reached the corner. She looked in all directions, and it was then she realized she was not alone. Her dark eyes spotted Quinn and she smiled and lifted a hand to wave in greeting.

"Hello."

"Hi," Quinn called back and inclined her head once to acknowledge the wave.

"It's a nice day to be outside," the girl remarked.

"Yeah, it is."

"Are the streets always this empty?"

"It's a fairly quiet neighborhood," Quinn replied. "You're new here, right?"

"My dads and I moved into a house here in May," the girl called back.

Something in the way she said those first two words seemed like a test, as if she were waiting to see if her new acquaintance would recoil or curl her lip.

"That's a tough time of year to move," Quinn sympathized. "It didn't give you long to settle into school before break, did it?"

The girl smiled a little at Quinn's response and looked at her more carefully.

"No, it didn't," she admitted. "Not for lack of trying. I joined practically every club I could, but nothing really stuck. Do you go to McKinley as well?"

"Yeah," Quinn acknowledged. "I actually saw you there once."

"Really? You would think I would remember…"

"That's okay. You were pretty flustered at the time. I think it must have been your first day."

The girl's brow furrowed curiously as her smile became a little more hopeful. She dismounted from her bike, glanced both ways, and guided it across the street.

"What's your name?"

"I'm Quinn Fabray," she answered with a brief twitch of her lips. The girl's stare was very intense and it made her slightly uncomfortable.

"My name is Rachel Berry," the girl returned. "It's very nice to meet you."

She held out her hand for a shake. Quinn's eyebrow quirked at this unusual formality but she slid her own hand into Rachel's and shook briefly.

"Sorry that I'm kind of sweaty," Quinn apologized. "You caught me in the middle of circling the block."

"Do you do that just for your health or as practice for something?"

"Both. I'm captain of the Cheerios now, so I have to stay in shape."

"Congratulations," Rachel beamed. "That must be exciting."

"It is," Quinn nodded.

She tapped her hands against her sides and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Well, I'd better let you get back to what you were doing," Rachel said finally, taking her cue from Quinn's restlessness. "Maybe I'll see you around again sometime."

"Maybe," Quinn acknowledged. "If not, I'll see you at school."

"Right. See you then."

Quinn waved once and began moving again, sprinting now rather than jogging. Rachel watched her leave and mounted her bike once more, looking back over her shoulder one last time before she rounded the corner and the other girl was out of sight.

… … …

"I'd say make yourself at home, but this isn't exactly the best room to do that," Santana told Quinn shortly after her arrival at the Lopezs' house.

"Do you not use this one?" Quinn asked. "We don't use our living room much, either."

"Not much," Santana acknowledged. "Kinda hard to relax with that eyesore staring down at you."

She gestured with annoyance to the rather solemn-looking family portrait.

"Is that your whole family?"

"Yeah," Santana shrugged vaguely. "It's really old. I've had to look at that thing for years. They refuse to put something else in its place."

Quinn stepped closer to examine the faces and locked her hands behind her back. There was a woman with the soft hint of a smile, fair skin and dark brown eyes, with auburn hair that fell down onto her shoulders – Santana's mother, she assumed from her age. Then there was a man to Mrs. Lopez's right with a stern expression, olive skin and dark hair, and a mustache that made him appear slightly formidable – Santana's father. Mrs. Lopez's left hand was holding the shoulder of handsome young man in his early twenties. His eyes were like his mother's and he had his father's head of thick, black hair. Even with the serious expression maintained for the portrait, he gave the instant impression of being remarkably kind and gentle.

"Tony?" Quinn hazarded softly.

Santana gave a quick nod and hooked her thumbs through her belt loops while her gaze remained trained on the floor.

"You look like him."

Her friend's head lifted up for a moment and she brightened a little.

"You think so?"

"Mm-hmm. Who's the little boy at the front?"

"Matyas," Santana rolled her eyes. "Ty is the Miracle Baby because he was born too early but he survived. He's been living the life of a prince ever since."

"What about the other woman, to the left of your father?"

"Mi abuela," Santana smiled. "Mamí and Papi were always working when I was little, so my older brother and I spent a lot of time with her. After… after everything that happened, my mother started being more selective of the cases she took so she'd have more time to be home with Ty and me. I still see Abuela once or twice a week, though, on my own."

"And that one whose shoulder your grandmother is holding is you?"

"Yup," Santana sighed and shook her head. "Kinky-ass hair and all. Thank God, they finally bought me a straightener before McKinley. And some tweezers for those eyebrows."

"You do look different," Quinn admitted. "Your hair seems bigger, the way it is in the picture."

"I wasn't the only one," Santana commented. "You should've seen Puck's before he got to high school."

"Really?" Quinn asked. "What was it like?"

"Thick head of curls, all over the place," Santana laughed. "Then he got rid of everything but that Mohawk of his. I'm pretty sure he thinks it makes him look like a badass but he looks like a freaking corythosaurus. I told him as much right after he got the haircut, but then he started calling himself Puckasaurus, so that kind of backfired."

Quinn chuckled and moved to look out the window while Santana took her place and glared up at the portrait.

"There's more variety to the houses here," Quinn noted while she gazed out into the street. "Where I live, they all look like expensive carbon copies with different paint. At least here it would be easier to spot which house was yours without memorizing how many driveways down it was. If it weren't for those stone lions on either side, I'm pretty sure I'd accidentally pass it up every time I get back from –"

Quinn stopped midsentence and realized she was standing in an otherwise empty room.

"Santana, where are you?" she demanded.

"In here," called a muffled voice from down the hall.

Quinn followed the sound past several doors and into a spacious study filled with dusty, unread volumes and mahogany furniture. Santana was situated behind a large desk with her feet propped up on the edge of the table. Her hair had fallen over one eye as she reclined in the seat and a thick, lit cigar dangled from her fingertips.

"Whose room is this?" Quinn queried while she nervously glanced around for a suitable place to sit. She was afraid to risk leaving indications of their presence in case they weren't supposed to have stepped over the threshold.

"It's my dad's office," Santana replied. "He practically lives in it when he's not at work. Sometimes he even brings his dinner in here."

Her friend nodded distractedly as she finally decided to just lean against the door frame – all the more convenient in the event of a speedy departure.

"You can relax, you know," Santana remarked when she noticed the tension in the other girl's shoulders. "He won't be home for hours. I come in here all the time when he's not around. I don't really get the appeal, though. It's quiet, sure, but there's not much to do in this place."

"Maybe he likes to read," Quinn suggested tentatively as she tried to alter her posture to an easier stance.

"Nah," Santana curled her lip. "I've checked every book in this place. No markers or bent pages, ever. The lengthiest piece of literature my father ever sits through is the Sunday paper."

She swung her legs down to the floor and strolled over to the nearest shelf.

"They're not all bad, actually," she said while she perused the titles. "I've read some myself. Some are pretty awful, though - too boring even for that dried-up tightwad to enjoy - and they're practically gathering cobwebs."

"So how do you think he spends his time?" Quinn asked.

Hesitantly, she crossed the room to stand at Santana's side. Her companion shrugged noncommittally in response.

"Does whatever he has to do so he can avoid coming out and talking to us, I guess," she said without taking her eyes off the binding immediately in front of her face. "I'm sure he probably pulls one or two of these down occasionally and tries to convince himself that he finds them interesting. He's not one for imagination, though, so he can't commit to anything he chooses. He just doesn't have the right kind of brain for that stuff. He probably just skims enough to carry on an educated conversation with his buddies at parties and figures that's enough. These books aren't for enjoyment's sake; they're for social status and career advancement."

She gave a short laugh and returned to the leather chair she had formerly occupied.

"When he's not doing that, he just goes through his schedule book or looks up new articles on the Internet. You know; important and pressing business that should always take precedence over family matters."

Quinn bobbed her head absently and began to wonder just how many hours the girl had passed in this place, searching all the drawers and cabinets and piecing together the enigmatic mystery that was her own father. The picture she painted with her words was one of careful – albeit critical – study.

Santana interrupted her thoughts before she had the chance to carry them any further.

"He always keeps this office so goddamn perfect," she grumbled. "You'd think no one was ever in here if you didn't know any better. There are never any ashes in the tray or ass marks on the seats. He doesn't leave papers scattered around or a spare pair of old shoes by the door. It has nothing to make it feel more lived-in or comfortable."

That much was obvious even at a passing glance. Quinn felt as if she had inadvertently stumbled into a room from a magazine or an expensive model home. Santana swiveled the chair around on its base as if even that repeated, circular motion were a form of rebellion.

"Sometimes I like to sneak in and change one thing – just one – to see what he'll do. I wait until he comes in and try to nonchalantly walk by and catch his reaction. It's always the same. He just moves it back and sits in his chair. Perfection restored."

Her shoulders rose and fell as she came to a halt.

"So, since that does a shitload of nothing, I just come back later and swipe one of his cigars. Now _that_ he notices."

She used the one in her hand to gesture to the box on the corner of the desk.

"Do you want to try?"

"No, thank you," her friend declined politely. "I don't smoke."

"Neither do I, ordinarily – just these, now and again."

"You're not a smoker?" Quinn confirmed with a furrowed brow. "So, why bother stealing your father's if they're not actually something you need?"

Santana allowed a perfect gray circle to pass her pursed lips. She watched silently while it drifted across the room and slowly dissipated.

"Because fuck him, that's why," she replied simply before rising to her feet.

"Sound logic," Quinn mumbled as she watched her companion work to hide the other signs that she had been there.

"C'mon," Santana urged. She crossed the room in several quick strides and rounded the corner, taking the cigar with her. "I'll show you the rest of the house."

… … …

Brittany peered out from beneath the crook of her arm as her mother walked into the craft room.

"Hello, sweetheart," Mrs. Pierce greeted with slight surprise. "Why are you up here by yourself?"

Her daughter shrugged evasively.

"Is something on your mind?" her mom queried and lifted Brittany's feet to make room for herself on the old, worn-out, brown futon.

Brittany gave another shrug. She reached for a magazine off the pile on the floor and began flicking through it idly.

"Trouble at school?"

"Not any more than usual," Brittany mumbled gloomily.

"Don't worry, honey," Mrs. Pierce reassured her kindly. "Sometimes classrooms just aren't the most conducive learning environments. It doesn't work for everybody. That doesn't mean you aren't every bit as intelligent as your peers."

Brittany allowed the magazine to fall from her hands onto her face.

"I don't think the Ohio educational system shares your opinion."

Mrs. Pierce chuckled and shook her daughter's knee.

"Come on; don't be so hard on yourself. You've made it every year thus far. I have faith in you."

Brittany lifted her head until her eyes were visible above the magazine.

"Thank you."

"Santana believes in you, too," Mrs. Pierce commented. "So that's at least one person fighting on your side when you're there."

Brittany fell silent again and began flipping through the magazine once more.

"Mom, what's a doo-vet?"'

Her mother gently took the magazine from her hands and looked at the word.

"Oh, that," she nodded. "They actually pronounce it doo-vay. It's a type of blanket."

Brittany bobbed her head and tucked the information away.

"But you don't want to talk about covers," Mrs. Pierce deduced immediately and tossed the magazine aside. "What's going on? Talk to me."

She gave Brittany her most goofily charming grin.

"I'm all ears," she stated as she put her fingers behind her lobes to waggle them back and forth.

Brittany giggled and sat up a little more before grabbing one of the small pillows and hugging it to her chest.

"It's just that Santana and Quinn have been spending a lot of time together, which is good 'cause I want them to be friends, but I don't feel like they're actually bonding very much. I'm worried because Santana took it really hard when she wasn't made captain. I don't want her to hurt Quinn or the other way around. What if they start fighting and I have to choose sides?"

"Well," Mrs. Pierce replied thoughtfully as she grabbed Brittany's sock-covered feet and danced them back and forth. "I think you and I both know whose side you'd choose, but hopefully it won't come to that. Still, I think you're probably right about them. Santana seems to be taking a leaf out of Sun Tzu's book and is keeping her friends close but her enemies closer. Except, in this case, she faces the unfortunate predicament in which her adversary happens to be both."

Brittany nodded and pouted a little.

"Do you think it will blow over?" she asked hopefully.

"In time," her mother answered. "But don't be surprised if the…"

She paused to clear her throat.

"…excrement really hits the fan before then. I haven't gotten to know her as well just yet, but I think Quinn has enough fight in her to hold her own against our Santana. Things could get worse before they get better."

Mrs. Pierce took Brittany's hands in hers and tugged her upright. She kissed her daughter's forehead reassuringly.

"You just be you, and it'll all be okay. They're both going to need that loyalty when times get tough."

Brittany threw her arms around Mrs. Pierce's neck and rested her chin on the woman's shoulder with a soft smile.

"Thanks, Mom."

… … …

Quinn held her cell in one hand while she watched her parents drive away through her bedroom window.

"Hello?" said the voice on the end of the line.

"Oh, um… Hello, Mrs. Hudson. This is Quinn Fabray. May I speak to Finn, please?"

"Of course you can, sweetie. He's right here."

The phone was passed over and her boyfriend's voice reached her ears.

"Hey, Quinn," he greeted happily. "What's going on?"

"I called to tell you that, uh, my parents have gone out. You know, just in case you wanted to come over to hang out for a while."

"Yeah! Great!" Finn responded so eagerly that Quinn could practically see him cramming his feet into shoes and stumbling toward the street. "Be there in fifteen?"

"Okay," Quinn laughed affectionately. "See you then."

The knock announcing his arrival sounded almost before she'd had time to change her outfit and walk downstairs. She checked her hair in the hallway mirror and opened the door with a wide smile.

"Hello," she greeted softly.

He stepped inside and shut the door behind him before pulling the girl into his arms.

"Hey," he said back and tilted Quinn's chin up to reach her lips.

Quinn sighed into the kiss and put her hand on Finn's chest.

"Living room?" she suggested quietly.

"But your mom," Finn worried. "Won't she flip out?"

"Not if we don't leave any evidence," Quinn assured him. "Here, take off your shoes."

He left them near the door and turned back to her. She took his hand and led him into the room to their right before making an immediate beeline to the couch.

"It's okay," she promised. "You can sit. They're overstuffed, patterned cushions so you won't leave a groove."

Finn reluctantly bent his knees and sat. He smiled a little and looked up at her.

"Not too bad," he complimented. "It's, uh, well-made."

"I know it's not comfy," she replied. "But it'll work for what we need it to do."

"Which is?"

"Give us a safe place to be alone together," Quinn explained bashfully. "Somewhere we can get closer without, you know, getting _too_ close."

Finn nodded and tapped his hands on his knees.

"So, you gonna sit?" he asked.

Quinn settled down beside him and smiled. She reached out and touched the side of his face.

"C'mere…"

He obeyed her command and leaned in for a kiss. Quinn deepened it until Finn was leaning back against the arm of the couch, feet just off the edge of the cushion, with her resting on top of him. A part of Quinn was waiting for that 'are you sure about this?' moment that was usually exchanged between couples on T.V., but perhaps that was reserved only for complete intimacy. Finn took it slow and let her set the pace where she was comfortable, although occasionally his hands roved too freely and she had to keep him in check.

"This is nice," he murmured sincerely. "Plus you smell really good."

Quinn laughed quietly and rested their heads together.

"Thanks," she giggled. "So do you."

"New cologne," he explained proudly. "Mom helped me pick it out."

"Well, she has very excellent taste," Quinn remarked.

She started to tilt her head again when her gaze suddenly caught sight of the painting of Jesus fixed to the wall. The dark brown stare that seemed to follow wherever she moved looked down at her, and white-hot shame burned across every pore of her skin. Her eyelids clamped shut and she tried to put it from her mind, sinking down against Finn and blocking out the nagging voice in the back of her head.

… … …

"I've got a problem."

"Haven't we all?" Santana drawled and leaned against the doorframe. "Hello, Quinn, what a lovely and unexpected visit. Please, come in."

Quinn ignored her friend's sarcastic hospitality and stepped over the threshold. She cast a quick glance around the house and craned to see into the rooms beyond.

"Where is everyone?"

"Out," Santana responded indifferently. "Like always. Why are you acting like you're hopped up on special brownies? I don't think I've ever seen you this jumpy."

"I need to talk to you about something private," she confessed quietly.

"You don't have to whisper," Santana teased. "There's no one else here to hear you."

"Even so, would you mind if we went to your room?"

"All right," Santana agreed and immediately turned to walk upstairs.

Quinn shut the door and locked it before following her friend's lead. They reached Santana's room and walked inside. Quinn secured that door as well. Her friend lifted an eyebrow and perched on the edge of her bed.

"Okay, Fabray. Spill it. What's eating you?"

"I-I…," Quinn stamped her foot and pulled out Santana's desk chair so she could sit. "I'm starting to have… feelings."

She buried her head in her hands as a blush started at her neck and spread across her entire face.

"The Tin Man finally got a heart," Santana joked and sat back a little on her mattress.

Quinn peered out from between her fingers to shoot her a glare.

"Sorry. PMS. Ignore it," Santana waved dismissively. "So, I'm guessing you don't mean feelings in general, but maybe a specific kind of feeling? Sexual feelings, by any chance?"

Her question made Quinn groan and hide behind her hands again.

Santana laughed and clapped eagerly.

"Well, pardon my French, but it is about fucking time. You're a little late to the party, my friend. So, what's the problem?"

"How do I make them stop?"

Santana snorted.

"No can do, princess," she replied. "I'm afraid you're stuck with 'em now, just like the rest of us."

"Okay, then, how do I make them quiet down and stop bothering me so much?"

"Have sex."

"No," Quinn refused immediately. "Something else. There's got to be something else."

"I suppose you could always take matters into your own hands," Santana shrugged.

Quinn lifted her eyebrows. Santana ran a hand through her hair and grumbled exasperatedly – something that sounded suspiciously like, _'You've gotta be shitting me.'_

"Masturbate," she finally elaborated when her companion didn't reach the conclusion on her own.

The other girl's nose wrinkled and she stuck her tongue out.

"Look," Santana addressed her impatiently. "Do you wanna hold onto that precious flower of yours or not? Keep the chastity belt in place for a little while longer?"

"Yes, of course I do," Quinn responded.

"Then you're going to have to curb this thing one way or another," Santana stated and looked at her levelly.

"How?"

"I just told you!"

"No, I mean… How do you…. do that?"

Now Santana was the one who appeared flustered. She rubbed the back of her neck and directed her attention to the way the light was shining on the ceiling.

"With your hand," she finally answered. "Not your whole hand, obviously. A beginner like you… You'd tear yourself open like a bag of Doritos. Start with one finger. Add a second, if you're comfortable."

"I won't have to get any of those magazines will I?" Quinn asked fearfully.

"Magazines?" Santana repeated confusedly, but then her eyes widened as comprehension dawned on her. "Jeez, Quinn! Where did you get your sex ed? A bunch of '80s teen movies? You can just use your imagination. Pretend it's not you touching yourself, but someone else. Finn, I guess, since – for reasons as yet unknown to man – you find him attractive."

"And then?"

"Just go with what works. If something feels good, keep doing it. I can't really give you a step-by-step past that. Everybody likes something different."

Quinn chewed on her lip and wrung her hands together.

"Would it be all right if I tried it here? In your bathroom, maybe?"

Santana's eyebrows shot up almost to her hairline but she nodded her consent.

"Yeah, I guess. Hang on, though…"

She went to her desk and opened a drawer to pull out a box of Reese's Pieces.

"Now I'm ready."

"We're not going to the movie theater!" Quinn protested as her blush returned.

"I'm not going to watch you," Santana rolled her eyes. "I'm just hungry. My lady floods are coming, remember? I am gonna sit outside the door, though, in case you need me. The last thing I need is you waddling back down the hall with your pants around your ankles asking me for last-minute instructions."

Quinn pulled a face as though she wanted to disappear into the floor.

"It's okay," Santana assured her and put a hand on the girl's shoulder. "The first time will be awkward, but you'll get better at it. C'mon. The sooner you start, the sooner you can get it over with."

Quinn allowed Santana to lead her to the upstairs bathroom at the other end of the hall and walked through the doorway.

"Should I sit or stand?" she asked before Santana closed the door.

"Sit for now. It'll be easier to focus on what you're doing."

With a shaky breath, Quinn did as her friend had instructed and tried her best to put the very simplistic tutorial into practice.

"How's it going in there?" Santana's muffled voice asked after a time, mouth half –full of chocolate and peanut butter.

"Um, okay, I guess," Quinn replied. "Nothing's really happening yet."

"Think harder," Santana instructed. "You have to give into it. If you're worrying too much about where you are or the fact that you're alone, it won't work."

Quinn tried again and closed her eyes tightly. She thought of Finn with his crooked, boyish smile and watchful brown eyes. With a little effort, she called to mind how it had felt to be in his arms when he came to her house. His mouth against hers…

Then another memory surfaced: the day he had asked her out on their first date. How Puck took her hand, led her to the top of the bleachers, and called out her reply when Finn couldn't hear.

She murmured indistinctly and hummed.

"Better?" Santana called with her mouth pressed near the edge of the door.

"Yeah," Quinn called back quickly, snapping out of her reverie.

"Sorry, I won't interrupt again," Santana apologized and leaned back against the wall while she contentedly went back to snacking.

Quinn tried to return to the memories, hoping she could pick up where she left off before Santana had brought her back to earth. She started with Finn on the couch again, remembering his hands and the quiet sighs.

Unexpectedly, an unrelated recollection intruded: the day she and Finn nearly ran into that new girl coming out of the counselor's office. How she met her again in Lima Heights and learned her name. _Rachel._

A shudder wracked Quinn's body and she immediately withdrew her hand. She hastily restored her clothing to its proper place and washed her hands thoroughly.

"How'd it go?" Santana asked when Quinn opened the door and stepped over her legs.

"Fine. It was fine. I have to go."

Her feet did not stop as she continued along the hall and turned to walk down the stairs. A moment later, Santana heard the front door open and shut and Quinn was gone.

… … …

"Finn, your fair lady has arrived! Get your tardy ass down here!" Puck called over his shoulder after opening the Hudsons' door to find Quinn waiting there.

He stepped aside and allowed the girl to enter the house.

"I told him to start getting ready like an hour ago, but he dragged his big feet and stalled like a pro," Puck explained as he walked back to the couch. "I'll light a fire under him if he takes too long."

"Thanks," Quinn replied. "So, what have you guys been up to today?"

"A video game extravaganza!" he proclaimed with his arms thrown wide. "It's been pretty epic. You missed quite the smackdown."

"Did you win or did he?"

Puck puffed up indignantly and put a hand against his chest.

"You insult my gaming prowess," he protested. "I took my place as victor with grace and poise and didn't even make up a song to celebrate my success, although there may have been a dance after the last one."

"I'm sure Finn appreciated that," Quinn smiled.

"Hey, why don't you give it a try?" Puck suggested. "We've got some time to kill before Finn gets his crap together; it could be fun."

"All right," Quinn nodded and bit her lip. "You'll have to show me what to do."

Puck handed her a controller and pointed to various buttons.

"This one will let you jump. That one's for kicks. If you make this thing right here go in a circle with your thumb, you can do this really sweet flip thing. Use it sparingly, though, because it can slow you down. This one will let you go through your weapons to trade out one for another. That one lets you boost up your energy if you've got something to restore your strength."

Quinn stared at each place his finger pointed and committed the words to memory.

"Jump, kick, flip, weapons, and reboot. Right?"

"Yeah, you've got it," Puck approved and patted her kneecap. "Get ready, though, because you're going up against a seasoned professional."

Quinn giggled and perched on the edge of the couch.

"Bring it on."

They began the game and Quinn was immediately caught up in the situation it presented. She shrieked when buildings began to explode and bobbed and weaved as if there was a body sensor that would make the character copy her movements. The ground began to crumble and she stood and backed up, climbing over the back of the couch to escape.

"Where are you going?" Puck chuckled.

"I don't know," Quinn called back through her laughter.

"Well, get back here. You're kinda in the lead right now."

Quinn climbed back and settled down on the couch, though she continued to lean forward and grip the controller tightly.

She flipped and kicked the other man's jaw. He crumpled on the spot. Music began playing and stats flashed up on the screen.

"Wait, what does that mean?" Quinn asked excitedly.

"You won," Puck explained, half incredulous and half astounded. "You won!"

Quinn squealed happily and Puck gave her a hug. She threw her arms around his neck as he spun her in a circle.

"You officially have to become a new member of Game Night," Puck declared. "That was amazing!"

"What was amazing?" Finn questioned as he stepped into the living room.

Puck set Quinn back on the ground and jerked a thumb toward her with an exuberant grin on his face.

"Your girlfriend just opened up a can of whoop-ass on me," he explained. "Hold on to this one, pal. She's a keeper."

"Yeah, I know," Finn said proudly. "Ready to go?"

Quinn nodded and looped her arm through his.

"You gonna hang out here for a while?" Finn asked his friend. "Mom won't mind."

"For a little," Puck nodded. "Looks like I've got some practicing to do."

He winked at Quinn and slapped Finn on the shoulder.

"Have fun, you two. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"With those guidelines, the possibilities are limitless," Quinn quipped.

Puck tapped the side of his nose and pointed to her approvingly.

"She catches on quick, this one."

The couple walked toward the door and stepped outside. As Quinn glanced back over her shoulder, Puck bent his waist in a respectful and admiring bow.

… … …

"Happy Birthday, angel," Mr. Fabray said as he removed his hands from Quinn's eyes.

She looked out at the driveway and hopped up and down. With an elated cry, she hugged him and her mother in turn.

"Daddy, it's perfect," she beamed. "When did you get it?"

"About two weeks ago," Mr. Fabray replied. "It's been in the garage all this time. We kept worrying you might go in there and spoil the surprise."

He handed over the keys to her new, red VW Beetle and nodded in the car's direction.

"Go ahead. Climb in."

She unlocked the door and slid behind the wheel with an ever-broadening grin.

"I love it."

"Good," he responded. "Maybe, by the time the Chastity Ball rolls around, _you_ can drive _me_."

Quinn nodded eagerly and ran her hands appreciatively over the steering wheel. Where they stood on the porch, Mrs. Fabray hugged her husband's arm and smiled tearfully.

"I'm not sure if I'm ready for this, Russell," she murmured and kissed his shoulder. "Our little girl is growing up."

… … …

Brittany was just outside her house when her cell went off. It was Santana's ringtone. She flipped open her phone and cradled it to her ear while she slid the key into the lock.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Britt-Britt."

She sighed as she entered the front hall. Brittany knew that tone. The 'bad news in a good way' approach that meant she was about to be placed second...again.

"Hey, Santana. I just got back from motocross. What's up?"

"Listen, I just wanted to tell you that I'm not gonna be able to pick you up today like we planned."

Even though she knew the reason, Brittany played along.

"Why not?"

"Well, it's just that Puck wanted me to go run some errands with him…"

_Have sex._

"We're going to get his house ready for later tonight..."

_Have sex._

"...and basically just pick out the music and set things up."

_And then, just for a change of pace, have sex._

"Oh, okay," Brittany replied in the most off-hand manner she could manage. "I guess I'll just text Quinn to see if she can give me a ride."

"Okay, sounds good. Sorry about this, Britt."

_Liar. _

"I'll see you tonight!"

Brittany could almost envision her tossing the phone aside after this last bit, scarcely remembering to hang up as she and Puck spread out horizontally on his couch. She snapped her own phone shut and shoved it angrily into a side pocket of her backpack. That familiar feeling behind her ribcage had returned, the one that felt like she was vaulting through the air and inadvertently landed on the pole.

She shuffled up the steps sullenly and pushed her bedroom door open with her foot. Not bothering to even remove her pack, Brittany flopped stomach-first onto the bed. The contents of her bag slid forward and bumped the back of her head, but she didn't care. She twisted one arm around herself to retrieve her cell phone from the pocket. Quinn answered the text she sent almost immediately, thankfully in the affirmative.

_Absolutely. I have a couple of stops to make near there anyway, so I can swing by to get you. :-)_

Well, that was settled at least. Brittany wriggled her arms free of the straps and left her backpack on the bed. Forcing herself to sit up, she tried not to let her eyes wander to the framed picture of her with Santana that was on the nightstand. It didn't work. She shot the beautiful girl in the photo an accusatory look before rising to her feet.

_No moping today_, Brittany decided. She couldn't bear pining for Santana when, currently, she was probably the furthest thing from the other girl's mind. Brittany sucked on her lower lip and stepped out of her room. As the door closed behind her with a small click, she straightened her shoulders.

_Forget this._

She would find her own fun.

… … …

The sun was disappearing behind the clouds as Quinn turned onto Brittany's street. Glad to be rid of the glare, she pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head with one hand. As she neared the cozy little two-story, she tapped her slender fingers against the steering wheel. Her head bobbed to the beat coming through her speakers. They still had several hours left before the party but she could already feel excitement pulsing through her veins.

Soon the house came into view. Quinn pulled into Brittany's driveway and parked beside her friend's small garden. As she exited the car, she smiled at the plastic sign embedded in the nearby soil: _Tread carefully... Fairies play here._

After smoothing her skirt carefully, Quinn started toward the front door, but giggles coming from the backyard stopped her halfway there. She reversed her course and stepped under the lattice arch. There, she found Brittany and her little sister, Katy, side-by-side, tearing back and forth across their property. High above them, a large white kite patterned with yellow birds was catching the wind. The little girl clutched the handle in her small hands and squealed with delight. Brittany held onto a portion of the string, which kept it from dragging on the ground while allowing her to guide the kite's course. Theirs was not an exceptionally large yard but they certainly made the most of it. Their sneakers flattened a path through the grass as they zigzagged left and right while trying to keep their craft aloft.

Brittany was clearly slowing her pace to match her sibling's. She remained ever-careful not to tread on Katy's feet or leave her behind. The kite swerved on a sudden gust from the opposite direction. As the two tried to follow, their limbs got tangled and they tumbled to the ground. The kite nosedived almost immediately, but neither of them noticed as they sat laughing in each other's arms. Quinn smiled wistfully and felt a pang in her chest as she wished - not for the first time - that she and her own sister, Frannie, were still that close.

"Oh, hey," Brittany greeted her, noticing the other girl for the first time as she rose to her feet.

Katy grinned and shot one arm into the air to wave it enthusiastically at the new arrival. Quinn returned the gesture with a more conservative waggle of her fingers. The six-year-old gathered the kite and string before tugging on her sibling's hand. Brittany looked down at her with a warm smile. She crouched onto her haunches so that they were on the same eye level.

"Have a good time at your party!" Katy said cheerfully as she threw her arms around Brittany's neck.

"I will, buddy," Brittany assured her and kissed her cheek. "Be good for Mom and Dad, okay?"

"Okay!"

With that, she bounded into the house.

"I love you!" Brittany called after her.

"Love you, too!" came the muffled reply.

Quinn witnessed this exchange with an affectionate expression on her face. Brittany turned to see her watching and smiled self-consciously.

"It's nice that you guys are so attached to one another," Quinn said in an attempt to put her back at ease. "That's not something you see very often."

"We like spending time together," Brittany shrugged. "She's really great."

A few yards away, at the base of the Pierces' oak tree, sat Brittany's backpack. She slung it over one shoulder and nudged her companion lightly in the ribs.

"You ready?"

"Yeah."

They walked to the car and Brittany climbed into the passenger's seat. After placing her backpack on the floor, she tucked both of her legs against her chest as she clicked her seatbelt into place. Quinn put the keys in the ignition and draped an arm over the back of her friend's chair, twisting around while she backed out of the driveway.

"Thanks again for picking me up," Brittany said as they drove down the road. "I'm sorry it was so last minute."

"No problem. I don't mind. It'll be kind of nice to hang out, just the two of us, without Santana around."

Brittany gave a noncommittal nod while her bright eyes looked out the window. Quinn frowned pensively. She could feel the girl's unspoken thoughts hanging heavily in the air.

"So, she's with Puck, huh?"

Brittany's eyes widened, but she nodded. That was something she had not yet chosen to share, but she didn't have to; it was written on her every feature.

"They've been spending quite a bit of time together lately. I take it they're on again?"

Her friend picked at a hole in her jeans rather than respond to Quinn's question.

"I just don't understand why she can't get past him," Brittany mumbled.

"Your first is the hardest one to let go," Quinn commented. "Or, so I gather. Not that I'd know."

Her lips pursed in thinly veiled frustration. _Understatement of the century. _She knew the countless negative outcomes that were drilled into her head by her parents and her church. Still, she was really starting to resent this imposed celibacy. She had worked so hard to earn Finn's affections, and she was not going to be at all pleased if her damned Christian guilt caused her to chase him off by giving him one "no" too many. He was already developing a bit of a wandering eye. Sometimes she caught him staring longingly at other girls when they were out together, and she could feel the jealousy shoot up her spine and clog her throat as she nearly choked on her own desperation. She was beginning to lose faith in how much longer she could stay strong.

She noticed Brittany fidgeting in her seat, but the girl said nothing. Quinn felt a twinge of sympathy and decided to change the subject.

"Do you want to listen to some music?"

Brittany nodded and seemed grateful that they wouldn't have to continue their conversation.

Quinn twisted the nob on the radio and slid her fingers along the numbers to seek out the desired channel by touch. She paused once she found it and waited before she decided that the song was to her liking. They both relaxed as the singer's voice filled the interior of the car. The tension in their shoulders slowly eased away. Brittany's feet tapped contentedly against the seat and Quinn began to sing along softly.

_I'd listen to her  
'Cause I know how it hurts  
When you lose the one you wanted  
'Cause he's taking you for granted  
And everything you had got destroyed_

They spent the rest of the car ride allowing the music to fill the silence, since neither of them could seem to think of a topic that wouldn't touch a nerve with the other. When they reached her house, Quinn led the way inside, up the stairs, and down the hall to her room. As they entered, they deposited their bags by the door and then sat on her bed.

"Your room looks nice," Brittany commented. "I love how it's always so clean. You got new curtains."

Quinn beamed and nodded, pleased that she had noticed the change. Her previous curtains had been a bit dark; this lighter, softer hue helped to brighten up the room.

"I found them in a magazine while I was at the salon a couple of weeks ago," she told her. "Do you like them?"

"Mmm-hmm. Very nice."

There was a brief, awkward pause. They were both so accustomed to Santana doing most of the talking that they didn't quite know what to do with all the lulls in conversation.

"So," Quinn said at last and clapped her hands together. "What are you going to wear tonight?"

They took turns showing one another the outfits they had selected. Thankfully, comparing clothing seemed to help get the ball rolling. In a short while, they were chatting casually as they set about getting ready for the big night ahead. They traded off using the bathroom and the vanity, and they helped each other with the hard-to-reach ties at the back of their outfits.

Brittany finished getting ready before Quinn did since she had opted to leave her hair straight for the evening. While Quinn worked on getting her own blonde locks to hold a curl, she put her i-Pod on shuffle in the stand beside her. She couldn't help but smile as she noticed the reflection of Brittany dancing behind her. Even with no one really watching her, the girl threw herself into every move that she made. She hit every beat and allowed herself to become a human conduit through which the rhythm could flow.

Quinn soon wrapped up the last of her preparations. She rose from her chair and went to fetch her purse but Brittany caught her hand. Her companion turned her around and pulled her into the dance. Cooperatively, Quinn allowed herself to be led for a few moments. She laughed as her friend teased her good-naturedly about how clumsily she moved.

"I'm saving my best stuff for later," she said. "We really should get going."

Brittany nodded her agreement and led Quinn in the direction of the purse on her door handle, still not relinquishing her hold. Quinn grabbed the strap with one hand, only to be twirled back across the room toward the i-Pod. While the song came to a close, Brittany slowed her movements to a subtle sway. She held up her index finger as Quinn tried to issue another impatient protestation. When the track finally ended, Brittany switched off the i-Pod and speakers.

"_Now_ we can go."

… …

The drive to Puck's house was pleasantly easy, filled with plenty of laughs at inside jokes and previously untold anecdotes. Quinn was relieved to find that they still paired off so easily in Santana's absence. It was nice to know they did not depend upon their missing third to hold their friendship together. She settled into this old, familiar dynamic happily and enjoyed Brittany's reassuring optimism and generally sunny disposition. Brittany, for her part, seemed glad to have her conversation with Quinn to keep her mind off the unpleasantness ahead: facing Puck and Santana together at the party.

When they arrived, they could already hear the distant sound of the bass thumping through the surround sound system in the basement. It carried faintly across the lawn and drifted out into the humid August air to mix with the chirping of the crickets. Even as they strode up to the front door, Quinn could already see a change in Brittany's behavior. She became noticeably quieter and her lower lip protruded slightly. It was as if she was already prepared to see something she wouldn't like when they got inside.

It turned out she was right. The door swung open and Quinn saw that it was Puck himself who was letting them into the house. He had a bottle in one hand and the other rested against Santana's waist. Brittany attempted a feeble smile as she saw her best friend. Santana greeted them both enthusiastically and welcomed them to the party as if she considered herself its co-host.

After addressing the new arrivals, the couple turned and moved as one through the crowd. The two girls followed closely behind them. Quinn took measured breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth. The wall of bodies pressing against her on either side was making her feel claustrophobic. She hoped things would clear up a little once they actually reached the basement. While they made their way downstairs, Puck called over his shoulder and listed off their mutual acquaintances that were currently in attendance. At the bottom, they started seeing some recognizable faces. Quinn nodded as politely as she could with her head spinning and her vision blurring slightly at the edges. She said a silent prayer for an empty couch or chair to come into view, if only for the chance to clear her head and return to a state of basic functionality.

Mercifully, she spotted a window of opportunity. A couple in the corner was getting noticeably hot and heavy. As they took their passion upstairs to somewhere more private, the lounge chair they had previously occupied was vacated. She didn't waste a moment. In the blink of an eye, she was seated with her legs outstretched and her head in her hands. Brittany noticed her plight and perched lightly on the armrest. She placed a hand against her friend's back and leaned in close to the girl's ear.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Britt, I'm fine. It's just a little close in here."

When she could feel herself slowly starting to relax, Quinn finally raised her head. Her companion was still watching her warily with her muscles tensed as though ready to fetch anything for which she might be asked. Quinn patted Brittany's leg appreciatively.

"I'm okay," she assured her again.

"Do you want me to stay with you?"

"No, that's all right. Go dance. I'll catch up with you later."

"I'm gonna hold you to that," Brittany teased and pointed at her before she turned on her heel and disappeared in the throng.

It really was amazing how many people Puck could bring together, given that his social circle was generally limited to the guys on the football team. However, Quinn knew just as well as everyone else that friendship had very little to do with getting an invite. With parties like these, it was essentially a high school Who's Who. Set lists of people were expected to make an appearance, regardless of their connection - or lack thereof - to the host of the gathering. There were always some tagalongs to be expected as well, social leeches drawn by the promise of free alcohol and possible promiscuity.

Through a small gap in the masses, Quinn spotted where Brittany had wandered after leaving her side. The section of the floor that was cleared for those inclined to move had drawn in the leggy blonde like a moth flew to a flame. Her presence must have been immediately noticed, for she was already in the middle of the group. Guys and girls alike flocked around her, eager to study her moves and let her blaze the trail into glorious oblivion.

Brittany's eyes closed and she began to ride the high of the second pulse that was surrounding her. Her long, unbound hair lifted from her shoulders as she turned, and an irrepressible smile spread across her glowing face to reveal her dazzling white teeth. In that moment, she tapped into the music's soul and the crowd was hers. No one who looked at her could keep themselves from at least swaying slightly on their feet. The pure, unfiltered joy that radiated from her was irresistible and there were no longer the inhibitions of social status, familiarity, or sexual preference. There was only this brightly burning star at the center of the room and the flock of restless souls that hungered for a similar release.

Quinn watched her friend own the floor from a distance and felt terribly inadequate as she realized that there was no particular talent of her own that she could display with such authority. Fortunately, Puck swung by a second later to offer her a drink and she was able to distract herself from her thoughts. She threw back her head and downed the contents of the plastic cup in three gulps. Puck's eyes widened and he clapped his hands approvingly before thumping her on the back. He handed her a second cup, originally intended for him, laughing and shaking his head as he went to fetch himself another.

It occurred to Quinn then that she hadn't seen Santana since their arrival and she wondered what or who had finally managed to pull her companion away from the role of the ever-present girlfriend. She had only to turn her head to find the answer. There, on the dance floor right beside Brittany, was Santana. Her black hair was already beginning to stick damply to her neck and forehead, but she didn't seem to notice as she followed her friend's lead and shook her hips to the beat. Brittany, on the other hand, seemed much more conscious now than she had been moments before. Granted, she still moved freely and her eyes still had the glazed-over look that clouded them whenever the thrill of the dance took hold. However, it was clear that her attention was now drawn to one among the surrounding number. She never strayed far from Santana's side, and the two girls frequently played off one another. They alternately combined their moves or opted to forsake them altogether in favor of rubbing and grinding against one another.

Quinn marveled at their abandon, knowing how cautious Santana usually was about making sure everyone else viewed them as best friends only. Brittany was obviously enjoying this exception to the rule. Her head rested against Santana's while their bodies curved into one another and her nostrils flared occasionally as she inhaled the other girl's scent. Quinn bit her bottom lip and worried that they were taking it a few steps too far. Just as she found herself digging her nails anxiously into the arms of her chair, though, Puck arrived beside the ladies. He slid easily in between the two and the moment was broken. Brittany went back to entertaining the masses, though with slightly diminished enthusiasm, and Santana centered on Puck as the next in line to get acquainted with her most intimate places.

The evening passed by in a haze. As people came and went, Quinn did her best to make her rounds but her heart wasn't in it. She didn't really know most of them anyway and, without Finn on her arm, she felt far less confident as she moved around the room. When he was with her, the boy would spend the entire party at her side. He always supported her weight when she got a little lightheaded from the heat and the closeness of those around them. Finn also made sure that she was never left alone, never allowed long enough to remember what it was like to be an outsider looking in. Now, in his absence, she felt hopelessly adrift. She tried not to resent the fact that Finn and his mom had gone to visit his aunt for the weekend, but it was difficult when she found herself needing him so much. So, to bolster her confidence, she made sure that her path occasionally took her near the table laden with plastic cups and downed several more on top of the previous two.

A while later, she found an open seat on the couch nearest to where the others were dancing. She tucked her legs up underneath of her and propped her chin on her hand. Brittany hadn't left her spot once the entire night but she was still going strong. Puck and Santana, on the other hand, had crossed Quinn's path repeatedly while she was circling the guests. From what Quinn had seen, her friend had visited the drinks table even more often than she had.

Santana and Puck were back on the floor now, though. They were pressed flush against one another and his palms were beginning to rove. While his hands remained below her waist, Santana allowed him to squeeze her without objection. However, when one of them snaked up her side and settled on her breast, she gently removed it and placed it behind her neck. He pulled her in for a kiss and she opened her mouth wide at the touch of his lips.

Quinn shifted uncomfortably. She averted her eyes, at which point her gaze fall on her other friend, who had stopped moving for the first time that night. Brittany stood motionless, with bodies bumping against her on either side, as she stared openly at the intertwined forms of Puck and Santana a few feet away. Though Quinn couldn't swear to it from where she sat, she thought she saw the girl's lip quiver slightly. At last, Brittany shook herself from her thoughts and looked elsewhere, only to spot her companion watching her from the couch. She blinked away the last traces of emotion and beckoned with a crook of her finger and a grin. Quinn hesitated but, since neither of them wanted to see the scene playing out nearby, it seemed like a welcome distraction.

She rose to her feet and joined Brittany on the dance floor. Quinn did her best to follow her friend's steps, although the bar was set undeniably high. Brittany was remarkably patient with her. She smiled affectionately as her friend attempted to look more comfortable than she felt. Then she took it upon herself to remedy the situation. Brittany moved in a little closer and placed her hands on Quinn's hips. She kept a respectful distance but used her hold to guide the other girl's movements. Occasionally, she would tap her companion's feet with her own, indicating which one she should be using for each step.

Once she thought her pupil had it down, Brittany released her and watched Quinn put the tutorial into practice. It worked. Quinn's face was aglow with pride at having mastered the lesson so quickly and Brittany looked just as pleased. From then on, the awkwardness was gone. Quinn closed her eyes as she had seen her friend do earlier and turned herself over to the music. Though she couldn't see her, she suspected that Brittany had done the same. For a short while, they were both able to block out the sights and sounds of the party and enjoy the exhilarating abandon.

Until Santana's voice sliced through the fog.

Quinn's eyes snapped open in alarm. She looked around confusedly for a moment until she spotted the girl a short distance away from where she had seen her last. Apparently, at some point during their dance, Puck had gotten... _distracted_... by one of the other girls near him and Santana had not taken kindly to it at all. She shoved hard against her boyfriend's chest and yelled angrily at him. It was evident that their friend was in fact drunk because tears slid down her face as her voice began to quake. Were it not for the influence of the alcohol, she would never have allowed him to see how much his infidelity hurt her.

Santana stomped her foot and rushed away from everyone. Brittany immediately followed, pausing only long enough to shoot a disgusted glance at Puck. Duly taken aback, Puck stepped out of her way and allowed her to pass. Brittany's legs carried her quickly through the crowd as she chased after the weeping girl. Quinn hung back, uncertain of what to do. At last, she decided that she had just as much a right to want to comfort her friend at such a moment, so she followed the path that Brittany had taken.

Quinn found the two closed in the small bathroom at the opposite end of the basement. She knocked lightly as she stood in the doorway, afraid that her arrival would be seen as an intrusion. Her companions were curled up on the floor together. Santana was hugging the toilet and her shoulders tensed as her body wracked with sobs and suppressed heaves. Brittany was holding her hair up with one hand and rubbing her back with the other. When she spotted their friend in the doorway, Brittany jerked her head to the right to indicate that the girl could enter. Quinn walked a few steps more and closed the door. She knelt on the floor and her fingers brushed the tiles beneath her for balance.

Santana wretched finally and her moans echoed pitifully as she spat out the excess. In between bouts, she hiccupped and whimpered about the state of her relationship with Puck. Then her contracting stomach muscles cut off thoughts of anything else and she was forced to lean farther into the bowl as illness took over her.

Though the stricken teen couldn't see it in her current position, she was not the only one in the room who was crying. She was trying her level best to conceal it but tiny, iridescent droplets were slipping from the corners of Brittany's eyes. Quinn pretended that she didn't notice but her heart broke at the sight of it. In a moment of clarity, she realized that this scenario summed up the girls' relationship pretty succinctly. Santana got in over her head and wailed as things fell apart; Brittany picked up the pieces while knowing that no credit would be given for her help.

Now, Brittany was repeatedly gulping mouthfuls of air and swallowing hard. Her neck and cheeks turned pink as she fought down the anguish of knowing the fact that she was present there and now - was there _always_ - simply did not prove enough for the girl in her arms. Quinn's hand twitched at her side. She wanted so badly to ease the pain for her friend but there was nothing she could say or do to change things for her. So they sat in the relative silence and listened to Santana empty herself into the basin.

After a time, the poor teen was finally spent and her body went slack as she slid from the toilet. She curled into the fetal position and wrapped her shaking arms around herself. Her dark eyes closed and she sighed heavily. Quinn pushed off the floor to reach for the towel on the rack above her head. She ran it under the faucet for a few seconds and then passed it to Brittany to clean Santana's face. Her companion accepted the cloth with an appreciative nod. She dabbed carefully at the other girl's chin and cheeks, her fingers lingering perhaps a little longer than necessary at the corners of her lips. Then she put the towel down on the linoleum beside her and met Quinn's gaze for the first time since she'd come into the bathroom. Her eyes rimmed with grateful tears as she mouthed to her friend silently.

_Thank you._

… …

It took a quarter of an hour before Santana was finally recovered enough to leave the bathroom. Once she was able to rise - albeit unsteadily - to her feet, the first thing she wanted was to be taken home. Brittany and Quinn led her back to the party by supporting her weight on either side. Without a word to anyone, they made their way awkwardly toward the stairs. They couldn't all three make it up the passage as they were, so Quinn fell a step behind and allowed Brittany to lead the way.

Soon, they were out in the night air once more and it finally occurred to them that they might have difficulty getting home. Santana wasn't sixteen yet and was obviously in no fit state to sit behind the wheel anyway. Quinn could feel a strong buzz that was making her a bit wobbly on her legs.

"I'm going to drive," Brittany stated decisively when Quinn voiced her concerns, and her friends looked at the girl as if she'd lost her mind. "Look, I know I haven't gotten my license yet but I can do it. I'll just be sure to take it easy. It's only this once. What else can we do?"

They had to admit that she was right. So, the three of them climbed into the waiting car with Santana stretched out in the back and the other two seated in the front. As they closed their doors, Brittany held out a hand expectantly. Quinn's brow furrowed. Now came the hard part. She fished into her purse and withdrew her keys to place them hesitantly on the outstretched palm before her. Brittany nodded and turned to look straight ahead with her jaw set in determination.

Backing out of the driveway went better than Quinn had anticipated. The Puckermans' mailbox was still in place as they pulled away, so things were certainly off to a good start. The rest of the drive passed almost without upset and she had to concede that this wasn't as bad an idea as it had initially sounded. The only disturbance was when they passed a cop on the street right before Santana's, at which point Brittany grew visibly nervous. She gripped the wheel with white knuckles then. Her back went rigid and she held her head held unnaturally high as she tried to look inconspicuous. Aside from this adorable and unnecessary charade, however, the incident amounted to nothing.

They rounded the corner and their destination was finally visible in the distance. The homes on either side loomed over them imposingly. Brittany frowned a little and eased up on the gas as she crept into the driveway at the Lopez residence. She parked and the three girls climbed out of the car. They closed their doors as quietly as possible, hip-checking them into place to prevent the sound from carrying. Santana insisted on walking on her own, so Quinn and Brittany stayed on either side of her as buffers in case she should lose her balance.

The girls had left the party so quickly that Santana didn't grab any of her things from upstairs, which meant that her purse and key ring were still where she had left them at Puck's house. Thankfully, the spare was in place behind the porch light. Santana stood on tiptoe with one hand pressed against the brick to support herself. After fetching the key, she let herself in and turned back to her friends.

"Thanks, guys," she whispered and pushed her hair back off her forehead. "For everything."

She gave Quinn a small smile before her gaze flicked over to Brittany. The girls' eyes locked for a moment. Santana broke the contact first and exhaled sharply before entering the house with a final wave.

Quinn and Brittany stepped off the porch and went back to the car. Neither spoke as Brittany backed out of the drive and turned in the direction from which they came. Quinn had never been more grateful that she and Santana lived so close to one another. It had been a very long night and she was suddenly exhausted.

They reached her home in Lima Heights in a matter of minutes. Brittany parked the car and handed the keys back to her companion. Mr. and Mrs. Fabray were already in bed, so their daughter and her friend were careful not to make too much noise as they entered the house. They deposited their shoes in the entryway so they wouldn't clack on the floor. Quinn flicked on the lights and led the way into the living room. They both flopped onto the couch with a groan.

"Well, I'm glad that's over," Quinn said.

"Me, too," Brittany agreed.

"Do you want to sleep?"

"Not yet."

"Neither do I."

"I kind of wish I'd had something to drink now," Brittany said as she rubbed her shoulder. "My nerves are all frazzled."

"I can get you something," Quinn offered. "My parents have me mix drinks for them all the time. Trust me; it tastes way better than anything you could have gotten at Puck's party."

"Okay."

Quinn rose to her feet and crossed the room to set to work. Her companion stretched her legs and covered her eyes with her arm. When Brittany felt the other girl sit back down beside her, she peeked out and looked at the glass being held in front of her face.

"What is it?"

"It's called a White Russian," Quinn replied.

Brittany sipped tentatively.

"Not bad, I guess. It's sweet. You're having one, too?"

"Might as well," Quinn shrugged.

They both lapsed into silence and drank. Brittany stared down into her glass thoughtfully. She licked the foam from her lips and looked at Quinn.

"Thanks again for being there with Santana tonight," she said. "It was good to have someone else with me, for once."

"It's what friends do," Quinn told her dismissively. "Do you think she's going to be all right?"

"Yeah, probably."

"Will you?"

"Me?" Brittany asked with surprise. "What do you mean?"

"That can't have been easy for you. If I had to watch Finn acting that way, I don't know how I'd react. It would tear me apart."

"Yeah, but he's your boyfriend. Santana's my best friend. It's different."

"Is it?" Quinn asked softly and looked directly into the other girl's eyes. "You two are closer than any best friends I've ever met."

Brittany didn't answer. Her eyes widened and her body stiffened. She did not have a ready response for the turn that this conversation was taking. She respected Quinn enough not to lie to her but her adherence to Santana's orders kept her from speaking the truth.

"You love her, don't you?"

It was not really a question.

Brittany's lip protruded for the second time that night and she looked stricken with guilt. Her mouth feebly tried to form a vague reply but she couldn't think of the right words.

"It's okay," Quinn assured. "You don't have anything to feel ashamed of. You didn't give yourself away just now. I've had it figured out for a while."

"Santana made me swear..."

"She doesn't have to know that I know. I'm not going to tell her. I do think you should talk to her, though."

"About what?" Brittany asked.

Quinn took the girl's hand with a pitying expression on her face.

"About how you feel. She shouldn't always expect to have you on reserve like this. You do more for her on a daily basis than Puck has done in their entire sham of a relationship."

"It doesn't matter," Brittany countered. "She wants to be with him. I mean, I wish she had more time for me like she used to, but that doesn't change anything. We could never... There's no way. How things are now is how they have to stay. She told me so. It's just hard for me sometimes and Santana..."

"Santana is so far in the closet that she's in Narnia," Quinn finished for her.

Brittany threw back her cocktail to avoid commenting. Her friend watched her and admired her unwavering loyalty. Brittany had promised that she wouldn't tell anyone their secret and she was remaining true to her word. Whatever Quinn surmised on her own was out of her control, but she wasn't going to utter a syllable.

"You're a really good person, Brittany," Quinn told her as she finished off her own glass.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You're a way better person than you give yourself credit for and a lot better than the people you love deserve, honestly. They don't realize what they have. I feel really bad because I know that I took it for granted, too, until tonight. You're always there for us, even when no one notices you."

"I take care of the people I care about," Brittany shrugged. "That's how it's supposed to be."

"But what about you? Who helps you with your problems?"

"My family does. I talk to them every day and Santana always steps in if someone says something mean to me," she replied.

Quinn waved an impatient hand.

"Not like that. I mean the important things. What happens when you have a major problem and you're too proud or ashamed to ask for help? Who knows you well enough to intervene anyway? Who takes care of _you_?"

Brittany downed the last of her drink as she thought. When she finally answered, her voice was scarcely audible.

"I guess _I_ do."

A few miserable tears slid down her cheeks. Quinn cupped her friend's chin in her hand and made Brittany look up at her. She didn't know the right words to say but she tried to communicate her thoughts with her eyes: her apology for making the poor girl cry and her willingness to listen whenever she was ready to talk. Brittany seemed to understand and did her best to smile as her mouth trembled sadly.

Then, for reasons Quinn herself wasn't sure she understood, she kissed Brittany.

It was half impulse and half inexplicable need. Her friend shuddered at the touch but didn't pull away. For the first few seconds, Brittany held still and allowed Quinn to press her lips against her mouth. Then Quinn raised her free hand to the other girl's cheek and used the pad of her thumb to wipe away the tears. This brief gesture, a simple sign of her sympathy and care, broke through Brittany's reserve. She returned the kiss with an unexpected urgency that caught the other girl off-guard. They both set their drinks aside on the end tables that flanked the couch. Brittany's mouth was laced with the taste of coffee liqueur and cream. Quinn savored the bittersweet flavor on her tongue as she licked it away.

Without making a conscious decision to do so, she felt herself fall back against the couch. Brittany straddled her immediately and for the first time Quinn found herself balking at the progression of events. She tried to pull away a little but this only caused her companion to deepen their kiss. Quinn pressed her palms against her friend's chest as she tried again to disengage. Brittany paused and her eyebrows drew closer together as she studied the girl's anxious face.

Quinn didn't have to ask the question. She had only to bite her lip and give Brittany a pleading look with her wide, vulnerable eyes to communicate her concern. Her friend shook her head slightly in an unspoken vow of silence and then kissed her again. Things moved even faster after that, and it was both thrilling and terrifying for the inexperienced teen. She could feel her dress being hitched up her legs and past her knocking knees. She gasped against the mouth pressed to hers as the folds of cloth reached her waist. Feeling Brittany pressed to the insides of her thighs, a private place that even Finn had yet to touch, made Quinn's head spin with giddy uncertainty and fear.

It struck her then that she was allowing the girl an overwhelming advantage, and she decided to even the score a little in her favor. She wrapped her arms around Brittany's sides and skittered her fingers along the myriad ties at her back. Her hands were trembling uncontrollably, and it seemed to take an eternity to make them obey her commands, but Quinn managed to undo the knots one-by-one. The powder blue top was sleeveless and, as the last tie at her neck came loose, it fell from Brittany's torso and onto Quinn's stomach. A strange shockwave exploded through Quinn's veins and her arms and legs were covered with bumps as her hairs stood on end. The girl was stunning. Her skin looked impossibly smooth and soft and it proved too tempting not to allow herself a brief exploration of this newfound territory.

Brittany grunted as Quinn pulled her closer and she pushed away gently. Her objection became evident when she tugged her companion's dress up to armpits. Compliantly, Quinn raised her arms and allowed Brittany to remove it the rest of the way. After she dropped the outfit to the floor, Brittany unbuckled her white capris and added them to the pile.

They both sat up for a moment and looked at one another. Brittany appeared comfortable in her near-nudity and allowed her companion full view of her body clad in a lacy white bra and underwear. Quinn was far less casual. She had never been in such a state of undress in front of someone else - outside of the showers after Cheerios practice or perhaps the doctor's office- and she felt suddenly cold. Brittany saw her shiver and reached out for her hand. She squeezed it reassuringly. Quinn gulped.

_Here goes nothing_.

She took Brittany by the shoulders and pushed her back against the couch. Her legs swung to either side of the teen's hips and pinned her into place. As she kissed her companion again, Quinn's heart was pounding in her ears and drowning out the sound of her own heavy breathing. She had no idea what she was doing but that didn't seem like it was going to stop her from trying. She figured that she knew enough about the basics to make educated guesses as she went along. Surely, Brittany would guide her through the motions when she was unsure of herself, just as she had when they danced earlier that night.

She slipped her mouth from Brittany's and moved it along the girl's jawline. Then she dragged her lips down the underside of her chin and to the hollow at the nape of her neck. She flicked her tongue over that small spot and smiled to herself when she felt Brittany quiver beneath her. Quinn didn't allow herself to linger. She lowered her head to the other girl's heaving chest and breezed over the exposed skin, planting feather-light kisses over every inch. Her teeth pulled playfully at the border of lace and Brittany whimpered as the tug of the material grazed against the tender flesh beneath. Quinn left her wanting more and neglected to uncover her in favor of sucking on the glistening skin over her abs. The muscles beneath Quinn's mouth contracted and loosened in response to her touch. Brittany arched up against her as a breathy sigh slipped from between her thin, parted lips.

Quinn scooted down the couch and freed Brittany's legs to spread apart. She moved her body into the open space and lowered her pelvis to rest against the cotton below. Brittany's hands rose from the couch and slid behind her. Quinn felt them push firmly against her rump and the manicured nails dug into her skin through the fabric. Here, she faltered.

Brittany took over then. She guided one of Quinn's legs back to the opposite side of her thigh and helped her readjust before roughly pulling her forward with alarming force. A light switched on inside Quinn's mind as they collided. Her ability to form coherent thoughts flew far away as she cried out. Brittany pressed her fingertips against the girl's mouth to muffle the sound. Her own face was growing red, showing that she was suppressing her shouts as well. Quinn was glad she'd had the presence of mind to do so; in the heat of this discovery, she had nearly forgotten the danger of waking her parents.

Quinn fell forward. She shuddered uncontrollably against the expanse of skin beneath her trembling form. Her friend held her close and wrapped her in a calming embrace. When she caught her breath, Quinn pushed away from the harbor of Brittany's arms. She backed toward the furthermost end of the couch. Her heart was positively hammering now as she looked down at the young woman spread out in front of her. She wanted so badly to be bold and self-assured, but she had to admit that she was petrified. It did not help that Brittany's eyes seemed to hold a similar emotion and her shoulders were clearly tensed.

Quinn took a steadying breath. She cautiously extended her right hand and traced her index finger along the girl's inner thigh. Brittany inhaled sharply but held relatively still. The tentative teen finally reached the elastic band that she sought and tugged at it slowly. Her companion was shaking violently now and Quinn could see the tremors in her own hand as she slid the underwear down further. She caught a glimpse of the soft hair beneath, but then smooth thighs closed on either side of her hand and stalled her movement.

"Wait."

She lifted her gaze to find that Brittany was looking down at her with an unidentifiable expression in her eyes. Quinn withdrew her hand.

"I...," Brittany began.

The girl's voice cracked and a small sob tore from her.

"I can't. I can't do this."

Quinn sat stunned for a moment. Her breathing slowed while she let this statement sink in.

"I'm so sorry, Quinn. I'm so, so sorry," Brittany cried as she sat up to throw her arms around her friend's shoulders. "I just can't. It wouldn't be right."

She clutched onto her and Quinn hugged her back consolingly. Now that the haze of passion had cleared, she was caught under an unbearable onslaught of remorse as she realized what they had nearly done. She had almost lost her virginity and Brittany... Poor Brittany. She understood perfectly why the girl had put a stop to it. If she had slept with Quinn, she would have irreparably damaged her relationship with the girl that possessed her heart. What she and her best friend had was special on its own, but made all the more so by the fact that they had only shared that with each other. If Brittany had surrendered that experience to someone else, she would have relinquished the one and only act of love that had ever been Santana's exclusive right.

"Oh, shit," Quinn swore guiltily. "Brittany, I'm the one that's sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. I didn't mean to do this. I'm so sorry. I just..."

She began sobbing before she could finish her sentence and Brittany stroked her hair. She shushed her comfortingly and rocked from side to side.

"It's okay. Don't blame yourself; it just happened. This wasn't your fault."

It was tempting to allow those soothing statements to ease her doubt, but Quinn wasn't quite through berating herself.

"Even so, I'm such a freaking hypocrite. Here I was talking about how everyone takes advantage of you and then I turn around and do the exact same thing."

"Well, I didn't exactly shove you away," Brittany reminded her. "I needed you, too, just then. Sometimes it's nice to be noticed."

Quinn had to agree. Anymore, her private exchanges with Finn were always tainted by his complaints about the restrictions she placed on them. This was the first time in a long while that being touched by another person had made her feel _special_.

Brittany nudged her friend with her shoulder. She held out her hand with a sweet smile.

"Friends?"

"Yeah," Quinn agreed and accepted the handshake.

"Okay, then."

The two girls tidied the couch and disposed of their empty glasses. They stood side-by-side while they put their clothes back on and blushed a little when they became aware of how much they had exposed.

As quietly as they could, the friends crept up the stairs to bed. Brittany grabbed her bag and went to the bathroom. Quinn took advantage of her absence to change into her nightgown. A while later, she heard a quiet knock on the door. She found herself smiling at her friend's endearing attempt to respect her privacy.

"You can come in."

Brittany slipped inside and shut the door. She made a beeline for the bed and crawled under the sheets. Quinn circled around and climbed in on the opposite side. She switched off the lamp and pulled the cover up to her chin. They both remained pensively silent for a time. Eventually, the fatigue from all that had passed took hold and they began to drift off slowly.

"Good-night, Quinn," Brittany murmured and turned over onto her side.

"Good-night, Brittany."

… …

The following morning, Quinn awoke as the pale light of day fell across her face. She groaned and rolled onto her hip to escape its rays. The space beside her was empty.

"Brittany?"

There was no answer.

She climbed out of bed and shuffled down the stairs. Her parents were both already gone for the day so the house was even quieter than usual. Then she heard a faint clinking in the kitchen and followed the sound. There, perched atop a stool at the counter, sat Brittany. She was stirring cream and sugar into a cup of coffee.

"Good morning," she greeted when she saw her friend standing in the doorway.

"I thought maybe you left."

"No, I just got up kinda early. I made us some coffee. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, absolutely."

She joined Brittany at the counter and poured herself a serving. They both took a few minutes to savor their drinks and collect their thoughts.

"Quinn?"

She looked up at the sound of the other girl's voice.

"About last night..."

Quinn looked back down at her mug. She trailed her finger around the rim while she waited for Brittany to continue.

She didn't.

Green eyes met blue as she looked up a second time. She saw that her friend was struggling to find the words to form the question she needed to ask. Quinn knew what she wanted to say, regardless.

"Brittany, I swear to you, I won't be the one to tell Santana. If you decide one day that you want her to know, that's up to you, but I'll keep it a secret until then."

"Thank you," Brittany said with an appreciative smile. "I won't tell Finn, either. Or anyone else."

"I don't think we really need to worry about Finn. My boyfriend has many great qualities but keen observational skills are not among them."

Brittany chuckled and finished off the last of her coffee. Then she hopped down off the stool and slung her backpack over her shoulder. Quinn noticed for the first time that the girl was already dressed and wearing her sneakers from the previous day.

"I can drive you home, if you'd like," she offered.

"That's okay. It's nice outside today and a walk sounds really good."

"All right, if you're sure."

"Yeah, I am."

She strode over to Quinn's stool. Her long legs made it possible for her to wrap her arms around her friend without standing on tiptoe.

"Later, Quinn. I'll see you soon."

She turned to go but the other girl's voice stopped her halfway across the room.

"Britt?"

She turned back.

"Hmm?"

"Are we okay?"

"Of course."

Her nose wrinkled at the bridge as she grinned. Quinn studied Brittany's eyes and found that she believed her. There was no resentment or pain hidden there, only sincerity.

"I'm really lucky to have you for a friend," Quinn mused aloud.

"Same here," Brittany replied and swayed from side to side while holding onto her backpack straps. "Bye, Quinn."

She left the Fabrays' house and closed the door quietly behind her. As silence settled around the house once more, Quinn sipped from her mug and looked out the window at the clear blue sky.

… … …

A light knock sounded at Santana's bedroom door.

"What fresh hell is this?" she grumbled and draped an arm over her eyes.

Another knock followed the first.

"Matyas, if that's you, I swear to God I will rip off your family jewels and feed them to the neighbor's cat!"

"It's your mother," Mrs. Lopez replied as she opened the door. "And I don't think your brother would want to be parted from that portion of his anatomy."

"Oh," Santana murmured and sat upright. "Sorry, Mamí. What is it?"

"I just came up to tell you that Brittany's here," her mother explained and stepped aside to let their visitor pass.

Brittany smiled at Santana and paused when Mrs. Lopez put a hand on her arm.

"See if you can help her find her sunnier disposition, would you? She seems to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed without ever actually leaving it."

Santana overheard the comment and scowled but Brittany giggled.

"I'll see what I can do."

Mrs. Lopez patted Brittany's shoulder gratefully and closed the door as she left.

"Hey," Brittany said softly and sat down beside her friend. "How're you feeling?"

"Like the living dead. You?"

"A little tired," Brittany shrugged. "You had a pretty rough night last night."

"Yeah," Santana concurred and rubbed at her bloodshot eyes. "Did I make a complete fool of myself?"

"No, sweetie," Brittany soothed her and brushed back her hair. "You had every right to be upset."

"Am I being too demanding? I mean, am I so worthless that he can't even pay attention to me when I'm right there?"

Brittany stretched out beside Santana and wrapped the girl in her arms. She kissed her companion's forehead before resting her cheek on her hair.

"You're not too demanding," Brittany mumbled. "And you're definitely not worthless."

"Then what is it?"

"Puck is kind of a jerk," Brittany replied gently. "He doesn't know how lucky he is."

"Do you think he ever will?"

"Maybe not," Brittany shrugged. "But if he doesn't, somebody somewhere is going to. I know it."

Santana held onto her friend's arm and rested her head against the girl's chest.

"I hope you're right," she sighed quietly. "What would I do without you?"

… … …

"Quinnie!" Mrs. Fabray called up the stairs. "I think your new uniform is here!"

Quinn bounded down the steps with a smile already on her face. She accepted the box from her mother and pecked her cheek.

"Thank you, Mom," she said and turned to go back upstairs. "I'll go try it on and make sure it fits."

Coach Sylvester was still using the same uniform as the previous year, but Quinn's growth spurt over the past few months had made it necessary to order a new one to maintain the appropriate skirt length.

She placed the box on her bed and used a small knife on her key ring to cut through the tape. Her hands fished through the packaging and carefully lifted the crisp, vibrant material out to drape across the covers. Quinn pulled her shirt over her head and shimmied out of her jeans before reaching for the uniform. The shirt slid on easily and zipped cooperatively over the bottom of her ribcage. As she walked toward her mirror, she guided her skirt up her thighs and prepared to secure it in place. However, the zipper resisted the movement of her hand and remained motionless. With a deep frown, Quinn tried again. Still nothing. Finally, inhaling deeply, she gave it one last tug and the zipper moved along the teeth to its proper place beneath the button.

Quinn sighed unhappily and examined her reflection in the mirror while she tied her hair into a high pony. Had she been too slack in her exercise regimen over the summer? Was she gaining weight in the absence of daily Cheerios practice? Her hand rested over her abdomen and squeezed critically. Perhaps she had.

She crossed the room and shoved her feet into a pair of sneakers before dashing down the stairs toward the door.

"Going out for a run?" Mrs. Fabray asked. "Be careful not to stain anything. That's brand new!"

"I will!" Quinn called and continued her pace out into the street.

Her feet pounded against the pavement and she pushed herself until her muscles ached. By the time she looked up, she was in the outermost reaches of the park and the sun was beginning to dip in the sky. She staggered over to a tree and leaned against it to catch her breath.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

Quinn's head snapped up in the direction of the sound, and she saw Puck sitting on a bench and lighting a cigarette.

"You look like you're running from the zombie apocalypse," he remarked. "Is somebody bothering you?"

"No," Quinn shook her head.

"Something's got you upset," he noted and flipped his lighter closed. "Running from your problems? Doesn't work; trust me."

Quinn sat down heavily beside him.

"Need to get it off your chest?" he offered.

"I'm just doubting myself today," she mumbled wretchedly.

"Why?"

Quinn shifted and looked him directly in the eye.

"Do I look fat to you?"

He snorted, but his eyes widened when he realized she was serious.

"No," he asserted adamantly. "Not even close. What put that idea in your head?"

"I had a little trouble fitting into my skirt," she sighed.

"Well, not to be a total dude right now, but you do kinda have some junk in the trunk – in a hot way. Maybe that uniform just wasn't ready for your bodacious bod."

Quinn laughed and shook her head.

"I don't think that's it," she murmured.

Gloom settled over her again and her shoulders slumped. Puck observed her worriedly and nudged her with his elbow.

"Hey," he said quietly. "You know what I do when life gets me down?"

"What?"

"Drink. I've got some wine coolers back at my place. You interested?"

She sniffled a little and nodded.

"O-okay."

Puck stood and crooked his elbow. Quinn slid her arm into the space and walked beside him, leaning against his bicep. They walked in relative silence until they neared his neighborhood and left the shelter of the trees.

"Thanks for doing this, Puck," Quinn said when they entered his house. "I could definitely use the distraction.

"No problem," Puck shrugged and left the room to fetch the drinks.

He returned, handed one to Quinn, and held onto another for himself.

"Drinking by yourself is depressing. Add another person, it's a party," he said genially and tapped the wine coolers together.

Quinn lifted her drink in cheers and downed the liquid eagerly. They settled on the couch and went through the entire ice bucket in one sitting. Puck ran a hand over his Mohawk and surveyed the scattered empty bottles through bleary eyes.

"Shit," he remarked quietly. "That went by quickly."

Quinn laughed and bobbed her head in agreement.

"Tell you what," he offered. "I've gotta piss but, when I get back, I'll take you home."

"Mm-kay," Quinn nodded and leaned against the armrest to play with the lampshade.

He staggered along the hall to the bathroom and walked in to relieve himself, not even bothering to shut the door. With difficulty, he managed to turn on the sink and run his hands under the faucet, although his forearms got terribly wet in the process.

"All right," he said when he finally made it back to the living room. "Ready, Freddie?"

Quinn rose unsteadily and grabbed his shoulder. They made their way outside and headed for the park again.

"Which way's home?" Puck asked.

Quinn swung her arm up and to the left.

"That way."

Puck nodded and wrapped an arm around her waist to catch her in case she stumbled. They walked along the winding park path and tried to avoid the trees. Quinn's crooked steps led her off the trail and she tripped over a root. Without thinking, her foot kicked out and struck the trunk.

"Stupid, hulking tree," she growled. "It broke my freaking foot!"

Puck guffawed and held out a hand for her.

"I think I like the drunk version of you," he decided. "She's feisty."

Quinn glared at him for a moment before smiling.

"Yeah, I guess she is."

After a time, Lima Heights came into view and Quinn heaved a relieved sigh. They tottered toward the Fabrays' residence in the distance, laughing and tripping as they meandered up the street.

"Are your parents home?" Puck slurred. "Should I be making peace with my maker?"

"Doesn't look like it," Quinn replied while she reached among the leaves of the potted plant for the spare key.

They lurched through the door and into the foyer. Puck gave a low whistle.

"Living the life of Riley," he commented.

Quinn shrugged embarrassedly.

"It's okay."

She moved over to the small table against the wall and picked up a note that had been placed there.

"'_Quinn, Went to a party at the Tauriellos'. See you later tonight. – Mom,_" she read aloud just before her ankle gave out and she nearly fell to the floor.

Puck rushed forward and caught her. She smiled thankfully and looked up into his eyes.

"Hey," he murmured and smiled slightly.

"Hello," she mumbled back.

Tentatively, Puck cradled her closer and bent his head to kiss her lips. Quinn sighed and kissed him back. She freed her arms to wrap around his neck as the kiss deepened and they both shuffled toward the stairs.

"Room?" Puck panted as he broke away from her mouth.

Quinn grabbed his hand and falteringly ascended the steps. They reached her bedroom and she shoved the door open. Puck closed it behind them and locked it before following her to the mattress. She tumbled against the pillows and he was on top of her in the blink of an eye.

His mouth found its way to her neck and began sucking the skin passionately. Quinn tried to find him in her peripheral vision. Her heart pounded painfully as she realized what was happening and a few words managed to make it past her lips.

"Say it again," she pleaded.

"You're not fat," he responded reassuringly.

Quinn shut her eyes and held onto his back.

"Do you have anything?"

Puck released his hold on her to pat his pockets. He sighed and hung his head in disappointment.

"No," he admitted finally. "They're in my wallet back home."

Quinn chewed on her lip and grabbed his shoulder fretfully. He abandoned his attentions to her neck in favor of running his hands over her hair and looking into her eyes. She shivered and met his gaze. Puck smiled reassuringly and caressed her face. His mouth lowered to her ear and whispered:

"Trust me."

… … …

Quinn heard Brittany on the stairs moments before a light knock sounded on her bedroom door.

"_Psst_," hissed the hushed voice, so comforting in its familiarity. "It's me."

She opened the door just wide enough for her friend to slip inside. Then Quinn pushed it back into place and turned the lock.

"I got what you asked me to," Brittany told her. She slipped off her backpack to unzip it and reach for the bag within.

"Thank you," Quinn said as she accepted the long, thin box the other girl handed to her. "I really appreciate you going through that for me."

"It was nothing," her companion shrugged. "It's not the first one I've bought from there, so they weren't exactly surprised to see me."

Brittany tucked a strand of hair behind her ear self-consciously. Then she noticed the dry, salty trails down both sides of her friend's face. Without another word, she pulled Quinn in for a tight hug. The frightened teen whimpered and gripped Brittany's shirt in her fists. She sobbed against Brittany's collarbone as the last of her restraint broke in the warmth of the embrace.

"Shh," Brittany whispered while rocking back and forth on her feet. "Everything's going to be okay."

Quinn wanted more than anything to believe her but, at that moment, she could not. In a matter of minutes, her whole life might change forever. Before she could give voice to any of those doubts or fears, Brittany took her by the hand and nodded toward the door and the bathroom in the hall beyond.

"C'mon," she said gently. "Let's go find out what the test says."

… …

Another knock, this time heard from where she sat on the edge of the tub.

"Quinn, can I come in?"

She continued to stare at the stick of plastic in her hand and did not answer.

Again the voice outside spoke in an undertone.

"What does it tell you?"

She opened her mouth but couldn't seem to find her voice.

There was a pause in the questions from the hall and she thought that she heard Brittany walk away. A moment later, the footsteps returned. There was a rattling at the door and then it creaked slowly open. As her friend entered, Quinn saw that she had picked the lock with a quarter from her purse.

"Hey," Brittany said softly.

The still-seated girl couldn't bring herself to meet her companion's gaze.

"Can I see it?" Brittany asked as she pointed to the stick.

Quinn handed it over and rubbed at her burning eyes with the heels of her hands. She sniffled loudly. The other teen walked over to the mirror and held the pregnancy test under the lights above the glass.

"Oh," she whispered quietly when she read the result.

She turned back to the tub only to find that its edge was now empty.

"Quinn?"

From where she stood in the bathroom, the sound of her companion rushing down the steps carried to her ears from the stairwell. Brittany stuck the test in her pocket and raced after her.

"Hey, wait up!" she called as she took the steps two at a time. "You won't want to go outside. It's started raining out there!"

Her friend ignored the girl's warning and allowed her legs to propel her ahead, out the front door and around the house, headed for the trees that bordered the back edge of the Fabrays' property. Brittany followed with her arms crooked at her sides and jogged as she tried to close the gap between them. Quinn ducked under the branches and continued onward. With long strides, she raced into the field of the large estate that stretched out behind the imposing residences of Lima Heights.

At last, her lungs ached and her pace slowed until Quinn dropped to her knees in the grass. Brittany had been right; it was indeed raining. Already, her clothes were soaked through but she scarcely noticed. The clouds rumbled angrily overhead and, as lightning flashed briefly across the sky, she found herself half-expecting it to strike her where she knelt. Another roll of thunder came and Quinn doubled over with her palms pressed hard against her temples and screamed.

The noise from the storm kept her cry from carrying beyond that field but Brittany could hear it as she stood watching from a respectful distance. The sound was manic, bordering on bestial, and it sent a shiver of fear down her spine. Unable to think of anything else to do, she cautiously approached her friend - who was now rocking back and forth - and crouched at her side. She tugged the shaking teen into her arms and they both shivered against the chill as the darkest storm clouds continued to gather along the horizon.


	6. A House Divided

**AN**: The lyrics that appear in this chapter are from The Freshmen by The Verve Pipe.

* * *

"I really don't know what's gotten into her."

Santana turned to Brittany for agreement but saw that her friend was still watching Quinn walk down the hall. She nudged her lightly in the ribs. Brittany's eyes took a moment to look Santana's way and focus on her face. When they did, there was a brief hint of sorrow behind them. Then Brittany blinked and it was gone.

"Hmm?"

"I said I don't know what Quinn's deal is lately," Santana repeated. "Last year, she practically ran screaming from her own shadow. Now, she's parting the crowd with a wave of her hand. It's more than just being captain; it's something about her personality. She's distant and gets super defensive all the time for no good reason. It's really weird."

Brittany nodded and adjusted her ponytail.

"If I didn't know that she's one miracle away from a canonized saint, I'd say she has a guilty conscience about something," Santana remarked. "She's so cagey and shifty anymore. It makes no sense to me."

Again, she looked expectantly at Brittany.

"Thoughts?"

"Maybe she's just going through something," Brittany replied vaguely.

"Then why wouldn't she tell us? We're her best friends."

"Something private?" Brittany suggested.

"I don't know," Santana sighed. "But whatever it is, this holier-than-thou crap she's been pulling better end real soon. Being president of the Crossed-Legs Club is one thing, but talking about it in public is another matter entirely."

Brittany shuffled her feet.

"So long as it makes her happy…"

"It's embarrassing," Santana complained. "She had us all hold hands to pray at lunch yesterday! Who does that?"

The bell rang and Brittany linked their arms to walk to the next period. She traced patterns over the other girl's skin with her thumb until Santana's scowl subsided. Just before they walked into the classroom, Santana shrugged and mumbled hopefully.

"Maybe it's just a phase."

… … …

"You'll never guess what I found."

Quinn looked up from tying her shoelaces to find Crystal, a sophomore Cheerio, sitting beside her. She, Santana, and a few of the others were relaxing on the bleachers and watching the boys run laps before their own practice began.

"You guys know how I've been using MySpace to check out Trent's music, right?" Crystal continued.

Everyone nodded and a few rolled their eyes. They had all heard more than they cared to about her boyfriend's life as a struggling recording artist. Crystal sat up a little taller when she saw how many people were paying attention to her story and leaned in conspiratorially.

"Well, I got bored yesterday so I sort of started looking around, and guess what? There's some new girl here who actually thinks she's gonna be on Broadway."

"Seriously?" Santana asked interestedly.

"Yeah," Crystal nodded. "How delusional is that? We live in Lima, Ohio, for Christ's sake. Oh. Sorry, Quinn."

Quinn waved the expression away impatiently.

"I mean, nobody from here ever makes it to the big time. At least Trent's dreams are more realistic. He just wants to be a successful indie musician. You can do that anywhere. But Broadway? And the real joke is that she records these videos of herself singing right at the camera. It's so awkward and uncomfortable to watch. Like, seriously, find something better to do with your time."

Crystal opened her duffel and pulled out her laptop.

"Here, I'll show you."

She opened the page and pressed play. While the girl was singing, Crystal sent a quick message: _Give it up. No one's ever going to hire you._

The laptop was passed around from one Cheerio to the next as they added their own opinions to the mix. They laughed at the singer's intensity and unwavering gaze while paying little attention to the song itself. Santana was next in line and looked – really looked – at how the girl was performing. She chewed on her lip and shook her head before typing: _Lima is like Ohio's version of the Bermuda Triangle. Anybody that's in it is never getting out._

After that, it was Quinn's turn to come up with her own response. She took the laptop and watched the video for a moment. As soon as her gaze fell on the teen's face, she barely suppressed a gasp. It was the girl from the summer, the one she had met when she was running: Rachel.

"C'mon, Quinn," Crystal goaded. "You're the one who's awesome at English. I bet you can come up with something good."

Her gut twisted with guilt but Quinn pushed that aside. She scanned the information on the page to find something she could latch onto, anything that didn't insult the girl's voice, because she actually sounded really good. Then Quinn remembered how Rachel had mentioned her dads back in July and an idea popped into her head. She smirked at the others before turning her attention to the keys.

_If I were your parents, I would sell you back._

The Cheerios laughed appreciatively before the computer was passed to the next girl. Eventually, Crystal took the laptop back and stopped the video. Quinn turned to Santana, still forcing a laugh, and saw that her smile looked just as fake. Their masks faltered a moment when their familiarity with each other revealed the truth, but then they focused on their squad mates instead and blended themselves into the crowd.

… … …

Quinn was growing frantic. Nearly two weeks had gone by since the night with Puck and she still hadn't found a way to cover her tracks. Silently, she rued every time she had turned Finn away because it would only make it more difficult to lure him into bed now without raising red flags.

To make matters worse, it turned out that Finn had a system now to control his urges. They were alone and horizontal on the Hudsons' sofa one evening when Quinn thought she might have finally found her window of opportunity. She subtly grazed her pelvis against his jeans and bit her lip before arching her back to bring her chest to the boy's eye level.

Finn's eyes shut tightly and he pressed his mouth into a thin line. Quinn frowned and bent down to kiss the soft skin just beside his ear. He started panting and fidgeting until she heard a single, muffled word tumble from his lips.

"What did you say?" Quinn asked with a furrowed brow.

"I—uh—," Finn stammered awkwardly.

"It's okay. You can tell me," Quinn assured.

"I said 'mailman.'"

Quinn's eyebrows rose.

"'Mailman?'"

"Yeah," Finn mumbled guiltily.

"What is that, like a safe word?" she queried.

"No. Well, not exactly," Finn replied helplessly.

Quinn waited patiently and he sighed.

"It's just that, a while back, my mom was helping me practice driving to get my permit. Then, um, on my first day out on the road, I a-a-accidentally hit a mailman."

"Finn, that's terrible! Was he all right?"

"They had to wrap his ribcage," Finn explained. "But otherwise he was okay."

Quinn paused a moment and tilted her head confusedly.

"But what does that have to do with right now?"

"It's the kill switch," Finn responded simply.

He received the same quizzical expression.

"The mood killer. T-The thing that keeps me from, uh, you know…"

He made an exploding gesture with his hands.

Quinn wrinkled her nose.

"Sorry," Finn mumbled. "Nothing else works."

She nodded and patted his arm lightly.

"I didn't wanna draw attention to it," Finn admitted. "I know how important purity is to you and I was trying to get better at sticking to the boundaries. I am doing okay now, though, aren't I?"

He looked up at his girlfriend hopefully.

Quinn sighed and leaned against his chest. She turned her head to the side and rested it just beneath his chin.

"Yes," she confirmed quietly. "You've been a perfect gentleman."

… … …

"No way."

"Oh, come on, Puck!" Santana urged while she leaned across him to grab the lighter off the nightstand.

"No freaking way."

"Finn's joining."

"That's his funeral."

"What happened to you guys being bros for life?" Santana demanded as she lit a joint and took a drag.

"Hey, when it comes to that Leave Room for Jesus crap, it's every man for himself," Puck argued and blew out a spiral of smoke.

"It won't even be a big deal," Santana asserted. "It's just the Cheerios and some football guys. If they're all in it with you, nobody's going to give you shit for being at the meeting."

"But I'm not getting anything out of it," Puck countered.

Santana turned onto her side and scowled.

"Is that how you're going to make all your decisions, huh? 'What's in it for me?'"

"Basically," Puck replied with a shrug. "It's worked pretty damn well for the past fifteen years."

Santana flicked his ear spitefully and readjusted the pillows. Puck rubbed the spot with a grimace and rolled his eyes.

"Look, the only way I could even tolerate being 'celibate' through that preachy hour of hell is if I'd just had sex right beforehand."

Santana exhaled slowly and looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Maybe that could be arranged."

… … …

Brittany found a corner table and, in the absence of chairs, climbed on top of it to sit. Somehow, she'd been talked into yet another party with the football team and Cheerios – this time at a guy named Matt's house – and it was playing out just like all the ones before it. Quinn had declined the invitation saying she had too much homework, and Santana was so wrapped up in Puck that she might as well not even be there.

She had been sulking for about half an hour when a shouting voice in her ear shook Brittany from her thoughts. A smiling girl with black clothes and bluish purple eye shadow that matched the streak in her hair had popped onto the table to join her. Brittany could not readily identify her face and assumed she was a freshman. The alcohol had evidently already started to take effect and was making the teen unusually giggly.

"Hi," she called to Brittany over the deafening music. "Is this your first high school party, too?"

"No," Brittany shook her head. "I've kinda lost count what number it is. Are you having fun?"

"Yeah!" the girl threw her arms wide and chuckled when she nearly fell over. "Best four years of our lives, right?"

"That's what some people say," Brittany answered. "How come you're not dancing?"

"Nobody to dance with," the girl replied and pretended to pull her mouth down into a frown with her fingertips. "Why don't you dance with me?"

Brittany chewed on her lip a moment and finally shrugged.

"Sure," she consented and slid down to the floor.

"Yay!" the other girl clapped and clumsily followed suit. Brittany caught her arm before she ran into a muscular linebacker.

"Careful," Brittany cautioned. "You sure you're steady on your feet?"

"T-totally," the girl slurred with a wave of her hand. "Just hold onto me and I'll be fine."

Brittany wrapped both arms around the other teen's waist and watched her worriedly. The girl held onto her hips in return and began to sway with the music. In spite of her concerns, Brittany had to admit that this stranger moved pretty well.

"Do you like dancing?" Brittany inquired and tried to match her steps as closely as she could.

"I love it!" the girl shouted. "I'm gonna dance when I get out of school. They won't be able to stop me until my feet fall off!"

Brittany smiled politely while her dance partner snorted and cackled uncontrollably.

"You're really pretty," the girl commented with a scrutinizing squint. "Your eyes are like, majorly blue. I wish I had blue eyes."

"You do?" Brittany remarked. "I actually think brown eyes are really beautiful."

"That's great!" the freshman enthused with a broad grin. "I have brown eyes. See?"

She widened them exaggeratedly and stood on tiptoe to give Brittany a better view.

"Very nice," Brittany complimented and leaned back.

"Have you ever kissed somebody?" the teen asked abruptly.

Brittany flushed a little and glanced around the crowd.

"Um… Yeah."

"Me, too," the girl nodded. "But it was kinda gross. Is kissing guys always gross?"

"No," Brittany replied honestly. "Sometimes it's fun, if they know what they're doing."

"Well, the guy I kissed didn't," the freshman declared loudly. "It was a disaster! What about kissing girls?"

Brittany coughed and sputtered.

"What about it?"

"Is it gross?" the teen inquired and went briefly cross-eyed as her vision blurred.

"Not to everyone. Why are you asking me?"

"Well, I wouldn't know," the girl replied as if that should be obvious. "Maybe I'd like it better than kissing boys."

She bent both arms at the elbows in a shrug.

"You don't know until you try," the girl grinned lazily.

"I guess not," Brittany conceded while purposely avoiding direct eye contact.

The teen grabbed both sides of Brittany's face and gazed blearily up at her.

"Here, hold still for just a sec," she instructed and sloppily pressed her lips against Brittany's.

Brittany held both hands away from the girl's body and pulled lightly out of her grip. The teen reluctantly relinquished her hold and patted hard on Brittany's shoulder with one hand.

"Not bad," she beamed. "A little squirmy, but soft."

She tottered dangerously from side to side, never making it more than a few steps without stumbling. Brittany shook her head at the freshman in dismay. The girl waggled her fingers and laughed again before wandering off into the crowd.

"What's your name?" Brittany called after her, still rubbing at her mouth with the back of her hand.

The girl glanced over her shoulder and shouted back.

"Tina!"

… … …

Santana fell in line behind Quinn the minute she spotted her and subtly elbowed Crystal aside to flank her friend on the left. If there was one thing that was useful about her companion's new-found authority, it was the ability to pass through the sea of students without fear of injury or delay. Quietly, Santana savored being able to look down her nose at the same people who had made every school year before that so miserable and watch them quake with fear.

Quinn noticed the shift in the ranks and glanced briefly to the right before returning her attention to Santana.

"Where's Brittany?" she asked.

"She's been hanging out with the newspaper staff a lot," Santana explained with something that bordered on annoyance. "You gave her the club joining bug and she decided to venture out. Now, what with Cheerios practice, dance class, celibacy club gatherings, motocross meets, and writing articles, Britt's keeping her eyes open just long enough to fill in the lines on her homework before she crashes for the night."

"Is she doing okay?" Quinn queried worriedly.

"Well enough to get by," Santana shrugged. "She's always been able to stay on the move better than the Energizer Bunny hopped up on a Monster drink, so I guess the multitasking is mostly just a time suck."

They neared Quinn's locker and the other Cheerios slowed down out of habit to let her swap out her books. One of them, however – a junior named Veronica – zeroed in on the girl whose locker was a few spaces down and meandered over to her.

"Your name is Rachel, right?" Veronica verified in a dangerous lilt.

Rachel looked up in surprise and nodded slightly.

"I saw your latest video," Veronica continued. "Interesting song choice. And the way you look right into the lens to connect with your audience that's… It's really special."

The Cheerios could hear the underlying venom in her voice, but Rachel brightened at the unexpected compliments.

"Thank you. I always find that, particularly with such an emotional selection, it's best to—"

"Who are they?" Veronica cut her off, pointing to the photo booth pictures held in place on the locker door with magnets.

"My dads," Rachel explained with an affectionate smile. "We took those the month after we moved here."

Quinn heard this last part of the conversation and shut her locker with an echoing bang. Veronica didn't hear the signal to move on and kept up the chat with her unsuspecting victim.

"Do you think that's what made you so fond of musical theatre? Being raised by two gay men?"

"Well, I do share their appreciation for the arts, but it doesn't really have anything to do with…"

She trailed off as Quinn walked up behind Veronica and tapped her impatiently.

"C'mon, Roni. You're going to make us late."

"That flamboyance, too," Veronica pressed on, ignoring her. "It must come in handy when you need to add just an extra touch of pizzazz."

"They did teach me a lot about the craft behind being a performer," Rachel conceded, though it was clear from the way her eyes were widening and her lip was protruding that she had begun to understand this was not a genuinely kind exchange.

"Seriously," Quinn interrupted again. "It will be hard enough to find seats."

Veronica's eyes sized Rachel up with a withering gaze.

"Pity they weren't able to pass on their fashion sense."

"Enough," Quinn snapped irritably. "You've had your fun; let's go."

Rachel tried to communicate her thanks with a look, but Quinn purposely avoided her gaze.

"What's the big deal?" Veronica asked defensively as they continued along the hallway. "Isn't that the point of that club you made us join? You're, like, Captain for Christ. Aren't you supposed to hate all the homosexuals anyway?"

"A _good_ Christian doesn't hate _anyone_," Quinn replied simply and distanced herself from the others as soon as they entered the classroom.

Santana tossed her head with superiority and smugly filled the one empty chair next to her friend. She glanced across the room at where the other Cheerios had settled and smirked in satisfaction.

"I don't know what you're on to transform you into such an HBIC but, whatever it is, I want some," Santana told her in an undertone.

"I'm not any different than I've ever been," Quinn insisted and shifted a little.

"Bullshit," Santana countered. "You just rendered an upperclassman speechless. Do you not see her face?"

Quinn refused to turn her head in that direction.

"Do you really not have a problem with gay people?" Santana asked. "I know they say stuff at Abuela's church all the time, especially when an election's coming up."

"They speak about it at my church sometimes, too," Quinn replied as she opened her notebook and carefully wrote the date at the top. "But, one time, when I was younger, I talked to a friend of my sister's named Alisha after I got back from Sunday School and she put things in a different perspective."

"What'd she say?" Santana persisted.

Quinn shrugged self-consciously and tried to summarize before the teacher was due to arrive in the room.

"She just kinda reminded me of the Ten Commandments, how all of them had something to do with an act that would hurt somebody – God, your neighbor, or yourself. Then she asked me, 'Why on Earth should anyone be punished for an act of love?'"

Quinn fell silent as soon as the lesson began and neatly divided her notes with headings and numbers printed tidily in the margins. Santana watched her for a moment, still processing what the other girl had said, before she shrugged a little and opened her own notebook to write the same.

… … …

Finn slid into the hot water with closed eyes and sighed. It frothed and bubbled around his arms as he leaned his head against the side of the hot tub. Quinn folded her cover-up neatly on the ledge before allowing her body to slip below the surface.

"Do you like it?" she asked her boyfriend after a few minutes.

"Yeah," Finn replied and stretched out his legs contentedly. "Your dad totally made the right call buying this thing. I'd get in here every day, if I had one."

"It is pretty nice," Quinn agreed. "But I was actually talking about my new suit."

Finn opened his eyes to look but Quinn's body was concealed beneath the water. She stood again briefly to let him see her recent purchase and a slow smile turned up one corner of his lips.

"A bikini," Finn noted while his eyes took their time traveling back up to hers. "No more one-piece?"

Quinn shook her head and grinned as she slipped back into the water and swam over to him.

"So, is it a good change?" she purred near his ear.

Finn nodded emphatically.

"A very good change," he confirmed before pressing his lips to hers.

Quinn smiled and scooted closer. With the privacy screen that obscured the hot tub from view on three sides, she was free to advance as far as she pleased without fear of parental interruption. Finn seemed to have realized this, too, and hummed his relief. Their breathing overlapped as the kisses became longer and more passionate. Quinn's heart hammered, daring for just a moment to hope.

Then Finn's mouth broke away suddenly and she heard him gasp. As Quinn opened her eyes, she saw Finn shaking with a strange expression on his face. Experience made it unnecessary to look down; she knew exactly what was wrong.

"Think of the mail," she ordered hastily, dismayed that his body was nowhere near hers as this moment arrived. "Think of the mail!"

But it was too late. Quinn grimaced as she felt a change in the water and didn't bother to hide her displeasure.

"Sorry," Finn sputtered when he surveyed what he had done. "Quinn, I'm so sorry."

"That's all right," she dismissed through gritted teeth and reached for her towel. "But we're probably going to want to get out of this mess."

… … …

"Open your eyes."

Santana groaned and tilted her sunglasses back down onto the bridge of her nose.

"But I don't see anything," she protested as she stretched out on her stomach in the grass.

"Have you tried the in-between spaces?" Brittany suggested.

Santana peeped out at her.

"What are you talking about?"

"Like our teacher was explaining in art class," Brittany elaborated while she situated herself beside her friend. "Y'know, positive and negative space? If you don't see shapes in the clouds, do you see something between them?"

"Yeah, a whole lot of blue."

Brittany nudged her and laughed.

"Smart aleck."

"What can I say? It's a skill," Santana shrugged and rested her chin on her arms.

The back of her top was untied to enable the girl to get an even tan. Brittany looked down at Santana's bronzed skin and observed the way the flowers growing around them cast shadows on her flesh.

"Why don't you just tell me what you see?" Santana mumbled drowsily.

Brittany licked her lips and traced the dark daisies on the girl's back with one fingertip.

"Birds," she answered at last. "Sad birds."

Santana's brow furrowed but she didn't open her eyes.

"How can you tell they're sad?"

"Because they can't move. Well, they can, but not without letting go."

"Of what?"

"The ground," Brittany continued and ran her finger over the shadows of the stems and the grass. "They've got vines in their mouths that are holding them back. It's like they want to have both at the same time: the earth where they land and the sky where they fly. Only they can't bring them together. There's all this space in between."

"Which do you think they should choose?"

"Sky," Brittany determined and sliced the top off a daisy with one short fingernail before placing it in the other girl's hair. "They'll be happier if they're free."

"You got all that out of some vague shapes out here?" Santana asked incredulously and rolled over.

"I just said what popped into my head," Brittany shrugged noncommittally. "I don't always get where it comes from."

"That's because you're an artist," Santana praised and waved one hand exaggeratedly through the air. "A visionary of the age."

Brittany rolled her eyes and laid her head on the other girl's outstretched arm.

"Or maybe I'm just crazy," she murmured and curled up against her.

"Nuh uh," Santana dismissed immediately. "I called dibs on that personality trait a long time ago. Get your own."

Brittany nuzzled her cheek.

"I'm glad you think I'm average," she said softly. "Sometimes it feels like you're one of the only ones. You, Quinn, and my family."

"I think you're more than average, Britt," Santana protested. "You're my best friend. The fact that you've put up with my shit storm of a life makes you the strongest and most special person I know."

"Really?" Brittany asked with a fleeting smile.

"Yeah," Santana replied uneasily, suddenly conscious of how much she had gushed.

Brittany removed Santana's sunglasses and balanced them on her own nose.

"Well, you're not too bad yourself," Brittany teased in a voice that reminded her friend of a starlet out of old Hollywood.

Santana snorted and snatched her eyewear back.

"Goober."

"Yeah, I am. You are, too. That's why we're such a good match," Brittany joked and lightly poked her companion's stomach.

Santana slid her sunglasses back on and sighed quietly.

"Yeah, I suppose it must be."

… … …

Quinn sat on the low garden wall and crossed her arms when Finn pulled into her driveway.

"Where have you been?" she demanded and did her best to ignore Puck as he climbed out of the passenger side.

"Just hanging out with the guys," Finn explained and kissed her cheek. "Sorry I'm a little late."

"What happened to your car?" Quinn continued with her interrogation, unfazed by his touch. "It looks like something barfed on it."

"Oh… That's egg," Finn told her and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Egg?" she repeated with an arched brow.

"Two dozen, to be exact," Puck bragged before he slid across the hood. "Finny Boy and I played Easter Bunny with some new kids."

"What does that mean?" Quinn inquired, keeping her eyes trained on Finn and avoiding any unnecessary acknowledgement of Puck's presence.

"We tossed 'em," Finn shrugged almost guiltily. "Out the open windows."

"You threw them at _people_?"

"We threw them at _losers_," Puck corrected. "Man, you should've seen it! We nailed this one chick in an animal sweater, square in her flat chest, and you'd have thought somebody just shot a puppy in front of her. She had this epic meltdown right there on the sidewalk."

Quinn's expression hardened and she got to her feet.

"Do you have any idea what you did to them?" she growled, and now Quinn's attention was zeroed in on Puck with the full extent of her rage blazing in her irises. "Those poor people are going to be looking over their shoulders every time they step outside their front doors! What the hell is wrong with you? Are you purposely this pathetic or does it run in your genes?"

She planted her hands on her hips and glowered at them both until they hung their heads in shame.

"You guys are the stars of the football team! People look up to you. Just what kind of example do you think you're setting? If this is the kind of men you're growing up to be, God help whoever shares their life with you!"

She angrily blinked back the disappointed tears rimming her eyelids.

"Strut around all you want but you didn't even do the job properly," Quinn snarled with disgust. "You drove around to egg losers and yet here two stand before me completely yolk-free."

Quinn turned on her heel and stormed toward her front door.

"Wait!" Finn called after her. "We were supposed to go somewhere together!"

"Well, looks like your schedule's wide open!" Quinn snapped.

And, with that, she shut the door with such force that the twig wreath on the outside nearly fell off its hook.

"What's wrong with her?" Finn asked in bewilderment.

Puck lifted and dropped his shoulders.

"Damned if I know."

… … …

"Glee Club?" Brittany repeated curiously as she thumped Santana on the back. The latter had snorted so hard that her drink came out of her nose and was currently hacking into a napkin.

"I know, right?" Quinn complained. "Evidently, Finn got in some kind of trouble and he has to join that club to get out of it. He's already freaking out because he swears the guys will call him 'Twinkle Toes' and he'll never hear the end of it. It's going to be terrible for him as quarterback with everyone thinking he plays for the other team."

Brittany's brow furrowed confusedly but Santana set her napkin aside and looked at Quinn levelly.

"Still stand by what you say about gays?" she demanded. "Now that the whole school's going to think you're dating one?"

"Then we'll just have to make it clear how wrong they are," Quinn insisted, ignoring the question. "If they see us together at all times outside of the hour he's in that choir room, they'll have to know the truth."

"Yes, all that grade school style hand holding and those bird pecks you call kisses will leave them in no doubt which side he's on," Santana concurred sarcastically.

She added Brittany's tray to her own and prepared to take them up to be cleaned.

"Sorry about your luck, Polly Pocket, but I really hope you like your men scruffy," Santana teased and looped her arm through Brittany's.

Quinn's face scrunched as she wrinkled her nose.

"Why?"

"Because it looks like your Prince Charming's going to be sporting a beard from here on out."

… … …

The space beneath the bed was dark and cold, allowing little sunlight and even less room to maneuver. Brittany squinted into the shadows until she spotted Charity, the more timid of their two cats, and tried to beckon with a crook of her finger.

"Come on, Charity," she pleaded in a sweet voice. "I'm sure Katy didn't mean to scare you like that. She thought you'd enjoy a ride in her toy car. At least now she knows it's too fast and you get motion sickness…"

The black and white tabby crammed itself deeper into the corner and crouched to make its body smaller.

"Will you at least come out to eat?" Brittany begged. "Look, it's the good stuff this time with the gravy on it. You know how much you love that."

She squeezed a small bowl into the space and waved it temptingly. Charity remained expressionless. Brittany sighed heavily.

"All right, I'll just leave it nearby in case you change your mind," she offered.

As Brittany set the food down and perched lightly on her mother's bed, her cell phone went off and blared loudly through the silent room.

"Hello?" Brittany answered, although the ringtone had already told her who was on the other end of the line.

"Hey, Britt," Santana replied. "How's it going?"

"Not so good," Brittany told her and flopped back against the mattress. "My sister got Charity out of her usual hiding place under the bed and took her outside for a drive in her little battery-operated car. It crashed into the oak tree and now she refuses to see the light of day."

"Your sister or the cat?"

Brittany chuckled.

"Charity, although, now that you mention it, Katy's lucky she got out of that without any scratches."

"I'd imagine so," Santana remarked. "Hey, did you hear about what happened to Finn?"

"No," Brittany said and turned over onto her side. "What's going on?"

"Well, I just spent the better part of the last hour with Quinn talking my ear off about how, apparently, Finn staggered out to the parking lot when she was leaving from practice today. He was covered in paint splatters. Puck and some of the guys brought in paintball guns and surrounded him to convince him to quit that club."

"That's awful," Brittany sympathized. "Did it leave bruises or anything? Paintballs hit really hard."

"I don't know," Santana responded disinterestedly. "The crazy thing is that he still won't quit."

"Yeah, but isn't it to keep himself out of trouble? It's not like he's in there by choice. Why can't they just leave him alone?"

"That's what Quinn said," Santana chortled. "I think what happened pissed her off even more than it did Finn. She said every bad thing about those guys that religious kick of hers would allow and shouted enough to wake the dead."

"I hope she didn't get too worked up," Brittany fretted.

"Why? Afraid she's gonna have an aneurism? Not gonna lie, the thought crossed my mind a few times while I was talking to her."

"No, it's not that," Brittany murmured and chewed on her fingernail. "Never mind."

She held her breath and waited to see if Santana would push the issue further.

"So, you'll never guess what the little rat bastard had done when I got home from school today…"

Brittany's shoulders relaxed and she contentedly settled against the covers to listen to Santana's complaint about her younger brother. Quinn's condition was still unknown, at least for now. The question was: for how long?

… … …

"They need me, Quinn," Finn explained for the fiftieth time.

"Well, I need my boyfriend to be able to escape the school grounds unscathed," Quinn returned. "Isn't there any way you could discuss the matter with Mr. Schuester and get him to come up with some other punishment?"

"All they've got for guys is me, a gay kid, and a dude in a wheelchair. If I bail out now, they're screwed."

"And that is exactly what_ you'll_ be if you don't get out of there now," Quinn pointed out with a huff. "The bullying, the criticisms… They're not going to just go away, Finn. Trust me. This can't go on."

"They're not all bad," Finn continued to defend as his gaze drifted beyond her shoulder.

Quinn followed his line of sight and spotted Rachel approaching the lockers.

"That girl's in there with you?" Quinn verified incredulously before muttering to herself. "Of course she is, she's a singer…"

She shook her head impatiently and pressed one fingertip to Finn's chest.

"Look, I'm not saying they're bad people; I'm only saying that associating with them is going to get you beaten up on a daily basis and it will annihilate your reputation."

Rachel reached her locker and began working on the combination. She spotted Finn first and waggled her fingers before her eyes found Quinn's and Rachel immediately turned her focus to her books. Quinn saw the way her boyfriend's expression had brightened and she glowered.

"Did you even speak to Mr. Schue about the possibility of getting your punishment changed?" she demanded sharply.

"Huh? I – uh – W-well, once I saw how small their club is, I kinda figured he wasn't gonna let anybody quit since they need every member they can get," Finn stammered.

"Unbelievable," Quinn fumed and immediately turned to walk away.

"What did I do now?" Finn cried miserably.

"I don't have time to explain it to you but, you know, I bet if you put that pea-sized brain of yours to work, you might just figure it out!" Quinn snarled.

As she departed, Quinn noticed that Rachel appeared ready to swoop in and smooth the worried crease between Finn's eyebrows. She purposely crossed the shorter girl's path before she could reach him and, before Rachel could take another step, Quinn stopped her in her tracks with a look that could have turned any soul to stone.

… … …

"If the wind changes, your face will stay like that," Santana teased and kicked Quinn lightly in the shin.

Her comment was ignored in favor of continuing to glare icily across the cafeteria.

"Wouldn't want all that expensive plastic surgery to go to waste," Santana added in an undertone and squeezed her friend's cheeks to alter her expression.

Quinn pulled away irritably and stabbed at her salad.

"This is completely ridiculous," she groused moodily. "I know it probably sounds conceited, but I'm a good girlfriend for Finn. He shouldn't have any reason to want out of this relationship and, even if he did, he shouldn't be sneaking around in plain sight like this! It's insulting to my intelligence."

"Maybe it isn't the way it looked," Brittany offered optimistically and nudged her cupcake in her companion's direction. "They might just be friends."

"Yeah, but how many friends does Finn have who are girls?" Quinn countered.

"Well, none, but there's a first for everything," Brittany shrugged.

"There's a first time for cheating, too," Quinn grumbled and chomped the icing off the cupcake before looking at the bite mark she'd left behind with obvious self-loathing. "Meanwhile, I'm stuffing myself like a fat cow and she's still prancing around with those short skirts and that ludicrous pull-along pink backpack."

"Quinn, so help me, if I have to hear one more time about Rachel Berry the Boyfriend Stealer," Santana threatened and pressed her palm to her forehead to channel her anger. "I swear to God, if someone didn't know better, they'd think she was the one you wanted instead of Finn, with as much as you talk about her."

Quinn's face flushed scarlet and she stabbed at her meal with more ferocity, but she stopped her tirade against her rival… at least for now.

"Anyway, the good news is that we're about to get to the bottom of this," Quinn said when her skin had returned to its usual color.

"How?" Brittany asked curiously as she sucked down the last of her chocolate milk.

"Coach Sylvester wants us to check in on them this afternoon," Quinn confided in a low voice. "There's a place where we'll be able to watch the club without them catching us, and then I'll see how Finn behaves when he thinks no one else can see."

"I've got dance today," Brittany told her apologetically. "Maybe you can call me later to tell me what happened?"

"Sure," Quinn nodded. "How about you, Santana? Can you make it?"

Santana considered her options a moment and swirled her food around with a spoon before she finally set the silverware aside.

"What the hell," she chuckled and shrugged. "Count me in."

… … …

Quinn honestly hadn't seen the slushies coming. She'd been in the middle of trying to chase Rachel off after yet another time the girl had butted into a conversation that didn't involve her when things took an unexpected turn. Rachel started standing up for herself and almost didn't seem intimidated at all by her enemy's tactics. Unaccustomed to disobedience of the social hierarchy, Quinn had found it difficult to come up with a ready reply.

Then Rachel had spun away from their argument with a triumphant smile – only to be hit directly in the face with a rush of blue ice and juice.

Quinn's first reaction was shock, not only because it was an unanticipated attack but also because Puck was one of the two jocks holding a cup. It was one thing to hear him boast about his oafish treatment of other students but another thing entirely to see it firsthand. Quinn tried to force a laugh but it wouldn't quite come out, and her eyes followed the boy's progress down the hall, wondering how he could do such a thing without so much as looking back.

Rachel looked down at her ruined outfit and sopping hair as her lip began to protrude. Her gaze traveled to where Quinn was still standing. Rachel's expression clearly indicated how dejected the girl was that her speech had been erased from her competition's memory now that she was coated in dye. For a fraction of a second, Quinn felt her gut squirm guiltily and checked her pockets for tissues – only to remember that her uniform skirt didn't have any – before Rachel let out a muffled sob and darted toward the bathroom.

… … …

Brittany was surrounded by books and notepaper, elbow-deep in a mountain of homework that appeared more overwhelming each time she looked at it.

"Don't worry," Santana said reassuringly as she crossed the room. "I'm going to work on mine, too. If we get stuck, we can help each other. Budge over, Fatso, I need my space."

This last remark was directed at Lord Tubbington, the increasingly large feline who considered the Pierces' house to be his undisputed domain. He shot Santana a single, resentful glare before doing as she had commanded. The girl nodded curtly to him in thanks and even scratched behind his ears while she unzipped her backpack with the other hand.

Brittany gave the first few assignments her best effort but, after forty-five minutes of almost complete silence, her head began to droop and she had to keep propping her chin on her hands.

"You okay?" Santana checked worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Brittany answered and rubbed at her eyelids with the heels of her hands. "It's just that the words keep blurring and I can't focus."

"You're tired," Santana concluded and walked over to her. "Why don't you take a break for a little nap? I'll wake you up to finish the rest; I promise."

"I can't," Brittany protested and tried to sit up a little straighter. "If I close my eyes, I won't wanna open them again."

"I'll take care of it, seriously," Santana insisted before teasing. "You're about to break your nose by crashing into the desk with your face. Coach Sylvester would have a fit. It'll just be for a little while. Come on."

When Brittany still didn't move, Santana turned the chair around and gripped the girl's armpits firmly.

"Up you go," she ordered and hoisted her to her feet.

Brittany giggled and tried to fight it but Santana slung her friend's arms over her shoulders. She let the teen lean against her back while she dragged her across the room.

"I feel like a cloak," Brittany commented with a laugh.

"Yeah, only cloaks don't give you any lip or purposely get heavier so you can't move them," Santana remarked and flung the other girl onto the mattress. "Now sleep."

Lord Tubbington splayed his paws out when the bed shook and grumpily hopped down to occupy the chair his owner had just vacated.

"See? Even Tubbers is clearing the way for you. He knows you need your rest."

"If you say so," Brittany agreed reluctantly and held out her arms. "Lay down with me?"

"All right," Santana agreed and set her books and bag on the floor. "But only until I know you're not awake anymore. Can't have both of us passing out or there won't be anyone to wake us up."

She crawled across the covers and enfolded Brittany in her arms, resting her chin on the other girl's shoulder from behind.

"Much better," Brittany mumbled in a voice that was almost inaudible, her lips already having difficulty forming words through the fog settling over her thoughts.

Santana brushed back her friend's hair and then rested against the pillow. The other girl's grip tightened on her arm and pulled her closer.

"I love you," Brittany whispered dreamily just before her limbs relaxed and she appeared to fade from consciousness.

The muscles in Santana's body tensed. She stared at Brittany's closed eyelids while her heart pounded and she held completely still. With a nervous lick of her lips, Santana eased the tension out of her arms and legs to give the impression she had drifted off as well. It wasn't until she heard a quiet whistle coming from Brittany's nostrils that Santana allowed herself to breathe again. After that, the only sounds were Lord Tubbington's purring and the steady clack of the hands on the clock, counting off the minutes that Santana had left alone to think.

… … …

Quinn closed her eyes and pursed her lips as she fought to stave off a headache. As president of the celibacy club, she couldn't afford to zone out but the throbbing near her temples was making it difficult to concentrate.

Rachel had decided to attend this week's meeting.

As if the club hadn't been feeling like enough of a joke already, what with almost no one in it actually being anything remotely resembling celibate, now here was the girl who might well be the one to whom her boyfriend surrendered his innocence. It was taking all of Quinn's effort not to glare a hole through her on the spot, knowing as she did that this was just another ploy to get close to Finn.

She sat a little taller and began the proceedings, which included introducing Rachel to the other members as a matter of formality, all the while trying her level best not to make eye contact. To her extreme annoyance, the first question to pass Rachel's lips was an inquiry as to just where the boys of the club were at that moment. Quinn testily explained that the first half hour would be spent apart before they all convened to share their faith.

Rachel accepted this information with a brief nod and folded her hands in front of her to listen to the weekly testimonies from various members about how belief in God had made a positive change in their lives that week. Not everyone was required to offer an example – mostly to avoid some of the more liberal individuals from saying something potentially offensive – but it was customary for newcomers to share a story in their first meeting.

"Well, I know that I'm not a Christian like the rest of you," Rachel began with a timid smile. "But maybe that's a good thing for the club, because I can bring a different perspective. As for a way my faith made a positive influence in my life this week… I think maybe it was just by giving me strength, you know? The way it always has. Belief in something greater than ourselves can be very comforting when our petty personal problems start to seem overwhelming."

Quinn found herself nodding in agreement but stopped abruptly the moment she became aware of it.

"Okay," she said suddenly and rose to her feet. "Now on to our club's central subject: chastity. Staying pure in today's society can be very difficult but, if we tread the line carefully, we can manage to hold true to our personal beliefs without isolating ourselves from our entire social circle."

Rachel chewed on her lip and appeared tempted to put forth an opinion. However, she saw the way half the girls were eyeing her and, upon receiving a raised eyebrow of warning from Santana, she remained silent.

"Take our clothing, for example," Quinn continued. "These uniforms are a great example of just the right balance. Everything private is kept that way, but there's still enough showing to keep a guy's interest. Santana, can you give us a little demonstration?"

Santana rose and moved to the center of the room. She spun in a tight circle until her Cheerios skirt billowed wide. The built-in red material clung close to her curves and covered only what it had to keep concealed to maintain a modicum of decency. All the other cheerleaders looked on with nods of approval. Brittany bit her lip.

"God bless the perv that invented these," Quinn commented approvingly. "Remember the power motto, girls..."

The other club members joined her in a chorus of giggling shouts:

"_'It's all about the teasing and not about the pleasing!'_"

While Rachel looked on in dismay, the Cheerios broke into a series of suggestive moves, clearly enjoying the knowledge of the power they had over the boys in the school. The more reserved newcomer tugged her sweater a little closer and wrapped her arms around her middle.

Rachel didn't utter a single word more for the duration of the girls' only portion of the meeting. When the time came for the boys to join them, her eyes went immediately to Finn while Quinn's eyes went straight to Rachel. She gritted her teeth and struggled to suppress her rage at how both of them lit up as they saw the other.

Quinn strode quickly toward the supplies for their first group activity as an excuse to busy her hands and calm her nerves. She picked up one of the white balloons from the desk against the wall and attached it to the nozzle of the helium tank situated there. Her narrowed hazel eyes watched as the gold cross printed on the balloon grew larger and larger.

"Let's pair up for the Immaculate Affection," Quinn announced loudly. "Now, remember, if the balloon pops, the noise makes the angels cry."

She summoned a few Cheerios with a crook of her finger and had them finish blowing up the rest of the balloons before passing them out to everyone. Meanwhile, she moved immediately to Finn and watched with smirking satisfaction as Rachel got stuck with Jacob Ben Israel, a perverted mouth-breather with thick-rimmed glasses who shuddered lustily every time he was within touching distance of a girl. The grimace on Rachel's face made it all-too-clear that she, too, was aware of her partner's unfortunate raging hormones.

A short distance away, Santana had paired off with Puck, naturally. The trouble for her was that, unlike some of his more timid teammates - or perhaps because of their presence - he decided to use this opportunity to show off how terribly out of place he was in a club promoting abstinence.

He ground his pelvis against the balloon as hard as its breakable exterior would allow, making it squeak threateningly as if about to burst. Santana watched him in alarm as he grunted and thrust.

"Take it," he said in a low voice. The back of Quinn's neck burned at the sound of his words, but she forced her attention to remain on her friend to see how she would respond. Santana's lip curled and her hold on her boyfriend loosened.

"Stop it," she commanded with a hint of desperation. "Cut it out..."

Santana dug her fingernails into his shoulder and did her best to glare despite her obvious embarrassment.

"I can't take you anywhere," she complained in annoyance. Puck gave her a dirty grin.

By now, Finn had noticed his best friend's actions as well. His eyes traveled to where the balloon was being pushed against Santana's skirt. It pushed aside a little bit of material with each of Puck's thrusts. Somehow, the balloon did not bust even as angled against her body and slid some of the solid material below away from her skin.

_Pop!_

Quinn had been expecting the noise all the while. What she hadn't expected was that it was not Puck's and Santana's balloon that had exploded. It was hers.

"Finn!" she shouted in dismay.

Her boyfriend stammered helplessly, blaming it on his zipper, but that did nothing to drive away Quinn's shame. Everyone watched as she fumed and the color rose in her cheeks until a single voice spoke.

"You know what? This is a joke," Rachel declared.

Her back was straightened in defiance and she kept her dark eyes blazing right at her adversary. Quinn was so stunned by the other girl's sudden rebellion that she merely stared in amazement.

"Did you know that most studies have demonstrated that celibacy doesn't work in high schools?" Rachel said rhetorically. "Our hormones are driving us too crazy to abstain The second we tell ourselves that there's no room for compromise, we act out."

Quinn was dedicating every ounce of effort in her being to looking outraged while fighting the burning of guilt in her gut as she stubbornly refused to so much as glance in Puck's direction.

"The only way to deal with teen sexuality is to be prepared," Rachel declared succinctly "That's what contraception is for."

"Don't you dare use the 'C' word," Quinn interrupted venomously as the words struck a very sensitive nerve like the jab of a lance.

Rachel's liberal-minded fury only seemed to swell indignantly at Quinn's protestation.

"You wanna know a dirty little secret that none of them want you to know?" Rachel asked the room at large.

Jacob Ben Israel nodded fervently. Finn listened expectantly with an unblinking gaze.

"Girls want sex just as much as guys do."

Quinn glared and sighed internally as Rachel stormed out of the room.

She really wished she hadn't said that.

… … …

"But why do we have to join the Glee Club if you hate it so much?" Brittany asked confusedly while she danced Quinn's stuffed animals across the bed. She put Isaac the Sheep on top of Santana's head and giggled when her friend pouted sullenly.

"It's a takeover," Quinn explained with a slightly manic glint in her eye. "We're going to be there to see firsthand just what that damn troll is doing to get Finn's attention, and then we're going to put a stop to it."

"I move to put forth a suggestion to the board," Santana interrupted and raised her hand.

"Granted," Quinn played along begrudgingly.

"Wouldn't it just be easier to dump his sorry ass rather than standing by and watching as he leaves you for Peregrin Took? Why not just beat him to the punch?"

"Says the girl who's dating Noah 'Sex Shark' Puckerman," Quinn shot back spitefully.

"Look, I know Puck's had more contact with vaginas than a pack of tampons, but that's something I've been aware of for a long time," Santana replied. "We're not exclusive. We're never gonna be. Finn fed you the false pretense of you being his one and only while he's eye sexing Baby Barbra."

Brittany frowned but kept her opinions to herself as she turned from Santana to Quinn.

"What's your plan?" she asked helpfully. "How are we going to get in?"

"We audition," Quinn stated simply. "Only we're not gonna drag out some warn out old show tunes with some jazz hands. It's gonna take a little extra something to get Mr. Schuester to accept us without question."

"We're not doing a number like that thing from the assembly, are we?" Brittany asked worriedly. "I don't want to have a balloon sticking out of my pants..."

"No, definitely not," Quinn stuck out her tongue in disgust. "Although being a little sexy probably wouldn't hurt our case."

"I don't know about strutting myself in front of that curly-haired creeper," Santana interjected. "He gives me the uh-oh feeling."

"We'll keep it pretty tame," Quinn assured her. "I don't want it to look like we're pimping ourselves out or something."

"Even though that's exactly what Sue is doing," Santana griped. "Hoping our pretty faces will distract Schue from the plot she's got up her sleeve."

Quinn waved that all away dismissively.

"Never mind all that. We'll keep her humored because, if Coach Sylvester isn't happy, nobody's happy. Still, that doesn't mean we can't have our own motivations."

"So what's the song?" Brittany prompted, mind already starting to generate ideas for choreography.

Quinn crossed the room to her desk and held up a silver disk for her two friends to see. Neatly printed in black permanent marker were the words_ I Say A Little Prayer_.

Santana flopped against the pillows and groaned.

"Heaven help us..."

… … …

"Britt?"

Brittany grumbled and buried her face deeper in her arms.

"Britt-Britt, wake up."

Insisted fingers prodded her shoulder.

"We've gotta get to lunch, c'mon."

Reluctantly, Brittany peeped out and saw her best friend standing over her. The lines in Santana's already concerned face deepened when she saw Brittany's skin.

"Jeez, Brittany, you're pale as death," Santana fretted. "Your eyes are all puffed up."

"What happened?" Brittany asked groggily.

"You passed out during the film, I guess," Santana surmised. "You were looking a little off-color before but, shit, you'd think I just dug you out of the ground."

"I haven't been sleeping very well," Brittany confessed as she stood and put her books in her backpack.

"It's having an extra club, isn't it?" Santana guessed. "Damn it, I told you you'd run yourself down if you took on too much! I knew it. I told Quinn to leave us out of her little scheming vendetta and now look! She's turned you into a zombie."

"It's not Glee," Brittany countered, rubbing her eyes after she slid the straps of her pack onto her arms. "Well, it is, but it's not because I'm in it. Look, I know those kids are supposed to be a bunch of losers or whatever, but I don't like lying to them. They're being really friendly and making sure we feel welcome and we're just getting information to give to Coach Sylvester."

"So you're saying you're not getting sleep because you've got a guilty conscience?" Santana clarified as they stepped out into the hall.

"Kinda," Brittany admitted with a self-conscious shrug. "Is that silly?"

"No," Santana replied immediately and threaded her arm through Brittany's. "You're the kindest, truest person I know, so it's not surprising at all. Tell you what: Why don't you skip the whole spy meeting thing today? Go home and take a nap for a while. Seriously, you've earned it."

"You don't think she'll get mad?" Brittany worried.

"Quinn and I will take on Sue and whatever fury of hell she has to rain down upon us today," Santana said. "Getting bitched at by that bat brain is the last thing you need when you're already tired and vulnerable. If she made you cry, I'd have to kill her."

Brittany laughed feebly and gave Santana an appreciative smile.

"Okay. I guess going home early one time wouldn't hurt," Brittany conceded. "I'll just leave my door unlocked before I fall asleep. My sister will wake me up when she comes to talk to me after she's home from school."

"Sounds good," Santana agreed and gave her friend's arm a reassuring squeeze.

Brittany checked over both shoulders before giving Santana a peck on the cheek. Santana instinctively recoiled as if burned but, upon seeing as her friend had that no one else was around, did not protest.

"What was that for?" she asked quietly.

"For taking care of me," Brittany replied with a small smile.

Santana looked at Brittany's drawn face and tired eyes before returning the expression with a slower, sadder smile of her own.

"I try my best."

… … …

Rachel hit her head against the seat in front of her with a soft thump.

"We really suck, don't we?" she asked despondently.

"Yeah," Santana confirmed without preamble. "Lucky for you, I found information about this guy so the sucking will be only temporary."

She, Rachel, Quinn, Brittany, Kurt, and Mercedes had all agreed to meet at Carmel High to observe choreographer Dakota Stanley in action. Thus far, his prowess was evident... but so was their inferiority to his usual pupils.

"How _did_ you find out about Dakota, anyway?" Quinn asked curiously.

"Vocal Adrenaline is like the uncontested best show choir in our region," Santana stated with a shrug. "Singing is great and all, but it's always the showmanship that puts a group over the top. A couple of articles in, one newspaper dropped the name and - voila - here we are."

Everyone except Brittany blinked at her incredulously.

"What?" Santana demanded testily. "Oh, for fuck's sake, I can_ read_."

"How much longer do you think this will go on?" Mercedes asked the group as she checked her watch. "It's already almost time for dinner. Don't they ever take a break?"

"Only for some bubble and squeak," Kurt drawled.

The other five turned to look at him.

"British dish made out of leftovers," Kurt elaborated. "Popular when things were rationed during the second World War? Oh, forget it. Why do I bother?"

Mercedes patted his knee and smiled affectionately. Remembering that she and her fellow spies were supposed to be encouraging this ill-advised infatuation - as part of Sue's recent plan to break up the New Directions by turning McKinley's Glee Clubbers against each other - Quinn gave the girl a subtle nod and a wink. Santana seconded the approval with an incline of her head while Brittany chewed on her lip, a habit she had fallen into so often that tiny flecks of blood marked where her teeth had been. She winced as those spots experienced a fresh twinge of pain.

"Just look at them," Rachel complained quietly, oblivious to the exchanges taking place around her. "They're at an almost Broadway level of professionalism and we're still trying to steer Mr. Schue clear of disco!"

"I don't know about y'all, but I'm one hundred and ten percent done with this pity party," Mercedes interjected as she stood. "I say we ditch this place and get something to eat. There are a couple of restaurants just across the street that we could walk to if we wanted."

"We can't," Kurt responded miserably. "If we leave the building, there'll be no one to let us back in."

"I've lost my appetite," Rachel mumbled before hiding behind her hands.

"Why don't Rachel and I stay here to open the door for you and you can just bring us something back?" Quinn suggested. "Britt, you can text me to let me know when you guys are waiting to be let inside again."

Brittany gave her a thumbs up before linking her arm with Santana's and heading for the exit. Kurt and Mercedes looked at Rachel uncertainly but, upon receiving a nod to indicate that she was all right being left in her rival's company, they followed suit.

"How come you stayed behind?" Rachel asked once the others had gone. "I could've just as easily been here by myself to let everyone in when the time came."

"I believe in knowing what I'm up against," Quinn responded tersely. "Not taking my eyes off my competition for a second."

"Are we talking about Vocal Adrenaline or me?" Rachel queried.

"Both," Quinn admitted.

Rachel nodded.

"I really didn't want us to end up this way, you know," she said after a moment. "When we met this summer, I had this crazy idea that maybe I'd just found my first friend."

"Well, we're teammates now. I guess you could at least consider us allies, for the time being, so long as you stay away from Finn."

"I'm not trying to be a Pied Piper or anything," Rachel protested. "However I can't help it if he comes to me of his own accord..."

"See? There it is!" Quinn cried as the dangerous gleam returned in her eyes. "You're all innocent and doe-eyed about it but you've got your fingers crossed under that pleated skirt, haven't you? Hoping you can just position yourself conveniently closeby for whenever he goes looking for whatever it is he's trying to find."

Rachel looked back at her with a strange expression on her face that Quinn couldn't quite name.

"Do you really think I'm so awful?" Quinn continued, hating herself immediately for the emotion she could feel threatening to find its way to her tearducts. "That he needs you on the sidelines waiting with open arms to help him escape? I know everything sucks for you right now and you want something better, but did it ever occur to you that maybe I might need him more than you do?"

"I-I'm not doing anything to hurt you," Rachel stammered. "Finn and I just have a connection, that's all."

"Well break it," Quinn commanded sharply.

She stood, clenched her teeth, and fought to hold back the tears that seemed ever-ready to spill over these days.

"I suppose it's a small consolation that, so long as you're here watching this rehearsal with me, I know you'll be well away from Finn until at least midnight. One day's reprieve until your constant hounding picks up again. I swear, it's like I round every corner and there you are, like some psycho from a horror film. So, please, just find a way to fix your own life that means you'll leave mine alone."

Quinn turned away before her weakness had a chance to show on her face and raced quietly toward the exit to wait for the others. Rachel watched her go before turning back to face the rehearsal, utilizing her spot in the shadows as a safe place to wipe away the tear rolling down her cheek.

… … …

"_Working at the car wash, oh oooh oh oooh oh ooh oh_," Brittany sang under her breath.

The blazing sun overhead warmed her muscles as she and the other Cheerios helped with the car wash fundraiser for the Glee Club to afford buses to their Sectionals competition. Brittany shook her hips to the song in her head and danced around the Range Rover she was cleaning with a happy kick of her high-heeled Chucks. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Santana shaking her head at this exuberance during such a tedious task. Brittany simply stuck her tongue out teasingly and continued to dance.

Despite no concrete encouragement from the boy, Mercedes was still mooning over Kurt without any hint of misgivings. Brittany noticed how she trailed around after him and felt a sympathetic pang. Were it not for the fact that she knew Mercedes had no reason to listen to or believe her, Brittany would have tried to caution the other girl against putting her feelings on the line. Even though she wasn't exceptionally close to anyone in the Glee Club outside of the two members she already knew, Brittany didn't like the idea of standing by and watching Mercedes get hurt.

As it turned out, Kurt himself was the one to put an end to the crush - and he did so right there at the car wash. Brittany was only a short distance away dipping her sponge back into the bucket when she heard the slightly raised voices of Mercedes and Kurt over near the car Mr. Hummel had bought the boy for his birthday.

To everyone's dismay, most especially Kurt's, the argument culminated in Mercedes smashing the glass of the boy's windshield with a rock. She then strode off in a huff, leaving Kurt gaping at the hole left in his prized possession.

"Wow," a voice said near Brittany's ear. "What was all that about?"

Brittany turned to find Santana standing beside her, sponge dripping soapy water along her arm.

"I think Kurt finally broke the news to Mercedes," Brittany concluded.

"Well, it had to happen eventually," Santana shrugged. "If that boy was any more off the charts, the arrow on my gaydar would have to go around full circle."

"I hope she isn't totally heartbroken," Brittany said as she looked in the direction Mercedes had walked. "It sucks waiting around for somebody who's never going to come."

"I'm sure Wheezy will get over it," Santana replied and dabbed the sponge against the tip of Brittany's nose. "Cheer up, buttercup."

Brittany's eyes crossed as she looked at the soap that was now tingling on her skin. She tried her best to scowl and planted her hands on her hips.

"What's the matter, sudsy?" Santana giggled.

Brittany took her own sponge and ran it along the underside of the other girl's chin, effectively giving her a bubbly white beard. Santana retaliated by taking advantage of the bikini tops all the Cheerios had been told to wear and lobbed her entire sponge right at Brittany's exposed chest. It stuck there for a moment before falling off into the bucket at her feet. They both surveyed the mess it left behind while Santana clicked her tongue.

"That is unfortunate," she teased with mock regret.

"I thought the point was to wash the cars, not the people," Brittany laughed.

Santana cast a quick glance around before she leaned closer and said, "Maybe it can be both. The car wash is nearly over, and I think there's a shower stall that has our names on it."

Brittany grinned and felt her eyelids flutter closed when Santana pressed the sides of their faces together and whispered in her ear.

"Race you to the locker rooms..."

… … …

The road from Lima to Bellville was a long one - around two hours, give or take a handful of minutes, depending on which route you took - made all the longer by the anxiety that felt as though it were threatening to tear Quinn in two. This was the first time she had made the trip back since they moved, but time had yet to heal any of her wounds. She tried her level best not to overthink it, not to consider how close she was to the place where she had never felt wanted, but the number of miles between her and her destination seemed to be decreasing by the minute.

As familiar roads and landmarks began to pass by her driver's side window, Quinn consulted the piece of paper resting on her center console. She flicked on her turning signal before making a left and slowly eased off the gas as she passed three driveways in succession before reaching the one she sought.

Gravel crunched beneath her wheels as Quinn made her way toward the two-story house set some distance away from the road. Trees bordered the path to her right while a vast stretch of neatly mowed green grass rolled out to her left. It was a quiet, welcoming sort of place with pure white siding and navy blue shutters. However, the residence possessed a measure of melancholy, as though it were far too large a property for the only two people who lived there.

4271 Carnation Drive.

Home of the Collinses.

Frannie's house.

Quinn sat fearfully in her car for a full three minutes, afraid to so much as take her keys from the ignition. She and her sister had been nearly inseparable once, almost too long ago for Quinn to properly remember it anymore. With the distance that had grown between them over the years, could she be sure that her sister was the right one to call on in this time of need? Then again, if not Frannie, who else did she have?

With a heavy sigh, Quinn climbed out and walked along the stone path to the front door. She pressed her finger against the doorbell and released it to wrap her arms tightly around herself, waiting. The little bell could be heard tolling throughout the house, echoing into the emptiness. After a few moments, the sound of footsteps could be heard approaching from the opposite end of the entrance hall.

Then there she was. An inch shorter than Quinn, though eight years older, with short brown hair that framed her face and bright blue eyes that were so like their mother's. Perhaps it was that very similarity that struck Quinn squarely in the chest the moment she saw her sibling. Regardless of what had triggered her response, she found herself crying pitifully on her sister's doorstep and completely unable to ebb the flow of tears.

"Quinn?" Frannie marveled, momentarily too stunned to move.

The younger girl was so overwrought that she could do little more than respond with broken sobs. Frannie opened her screen door and stepped out onto the front stoop in her bare feet to wrap her arm around Quinn's shoulders.

"What are you doing all the way back in Bellville?" Frannie marveled as she led the weeping teen into the house. "Did you make the drive all alone?"

Quinn managed a nod while she attempted to clean her face with her sleeve.

"I don't think that's gonna be able to get it all, sweetheart," Frannie remarked. "Why don't I get you some tissues?"

She made sure Quinn was comfortably settled on the comfiest couch right in front of three large windows and then went off to fetch an entire box of Kleenex.

"There you go," Frannie offered before settling into the nearby armchair. "I'm guessing from the mini Niagara streaming out of your tearducts that this isn't just a friendly visit?"

Quinn looked up with a quivering lip and nearly crumbled all over again at the sweet and patient smile her sister was giving her. For now, the only answer she was able to give was a shake of her head.

"Okay," Frannie nodded and clasped her hands together. "Is it a family emergency?"

The horrible wail that emitted from Quinn's mouth made the other woman flinch.

"Nothing to do with Mom and Dad, is it?"

Another shake of the head.

"Well, that's one good thing at least. But... Quinnie... Mom and Dad are the only family you and I have," Frannie said slowly.

Quinn lifted her red-rimmed eyes and clenched the tissues tightly in her fists while her whole body shook. It was only with great determination that she held Frannie's gaze, but that look was all that was required to express her meaning.

"Oh, no," Frannie murmured and moved to crouch in front of her trembling little sister. "Quinn, are you in trouble?"

A nod.

Frannie's narrow shoulders seemed to suddenly sag under a very heavy weight. She rose and settled onto the cushion next to Quinn before tugging the girl into a protective hug.

"How long have you known?"

"Since the start of last month."

"Does anyone else know?" Frannie asked.

"Only one of my best friends, and she agreed not to tell anyone until I was ready."

"So you still haven't broken the news to Mom and Dad," Frannie concluded in a worried tone.

"No, I haven't. I can't, though, Frannie. I just can't. Mom's going to be ashamed of me and Daddy will hate me. They'll disown me; they'll send me to a nunnery."

Frannie laughed before holding Quinn's face in her hands.

"I highly doubt any cloisters will be involved since we are neither Catholic nor the royals of sixteenth century Denmark," she teased gently. "But you are right that they're not going to be happy. Russell loves his morals the way other men love Sunday football."

"What do I do? I don't want my life to be over but I've got to keep it, at least until full term. Then maybe someone would adopt it," Quinn thought aloud. "But how do I keep the pregnancy from our parents once I start to get bigger? They know I'd never let my body go after what happened before we moved."

Frannie stared at a patch of sunlight on the floor for a moment and watched the particles of dust spiral lazily through the air. Without thinking about it, she had reached for Quinn's hand while her sister spoke and was now holding it in both of her own, stroking the skin with her thumb.

"I know this is another drastic change on top of the one you're already about to face but... What if you lived here?"

Quinn's face blanched immediately.

"Move back to Bellville?"

"You're right," Frannie agreed hastily as she saw the flaw in the plan. "That would only make things worse, wouldn't it? It'd be one thing if you were older and could just stay home with me, but you're still a teenager. You'd have to go to the high school here and you'd be right back in with the same bastards who tortured you as a kid. Oh, they'd have a field day with this... Sorry, Quinnie. I wasn't thinking."

"No, it's okay," Quinn protested. "It means a lot that you would do that for me."

"Of course I would, Goose," Frannie replied, slipping and using an old term of endearment from her sibling's youth. "You're my baby sister. I'd do anything to protect you from pain."

Quinn sniffled and squeezed Frannie's hand.

"When did the doctor say you're due?" Frannie inquired.

"I-I haven't been to the doctor. I just took one of the home tests a couple of days after I... we... after everything happened."

A flicker of hope crossed her sister's features.

"Quinn, those tests aren't always accurate, especially if you only used one and it was taken shortly after you'd been with somebody. We're going to need to check with a doctor to be sure this isn't a false alarm."

"You mean I might not be pregnant?" Quinn asked desperately.

"Don't get your hopes up yet, just in case. It is possible, though," Frannie admitted. "Why don't you make an appointment once you get home and, whenever it is, I'll drive you there."

"But, Frannie, that's such a long way. The gas money alone..."

Frannie waved her hand impatiently through the air.

"I am by no means strapped for cash. Besides, you need someone with you, no matter what the outcome. I'm going and no one's gonna stop me."

Quinn looked at her sister for a moment in quiet awe and shook her head slowly. A surge of unexpected affection welled up inside of her and she threw her arms around her sibling's neck.

"Thank you," Quinn whispered gratefully. "I don't even understand why you're doing this for me..."

A few tears slid down Frannie's face as she stroked Quinn's hair and rubbed her back.

"Because you're my favorite," she answered and kissed the top of her head. "Just don't tell the others."

Quinn giggled in spite of herself and felt rather than heard Frannie laugh as well.

"It'll all be okay, sis," Frannie promised determinedly. "It won't be the end of the world."

… … …

Santana skimmed through the pages of her textbook, not really taking anything in no matter how hard she fought to concentrate. An endless series of problems passed before her eyes but she lacked the energy to try to solve them. Her lip curled and she tossed the book aside in disgust.

"I give up. Be glad you're still in Algebra, Britt, because Geometry freaking sucks."

Brittany nodded sympathetically but did not look up. Santana's brow furrowed with curiosity. She crawled across the bed to peer over the lap desk propped against her companion's bent knees.

"What are you working on?"

"Oh, just drawing," Brittany replied vaguely and pushed off the mattress with one foot so she wheeled across the floor.

"What are you drawing?"

A coy smile twitched at the corners of Brittany's lips.

"You."

Santana's cheeks grew hot but she couldn't fight back the smile that spread across her face. She hopped onto the floor and tried to reach the other girl's side quickly enough to sneak a look.

"Really?"

Brittany nodded but held the sketch pad close to her chest. Santana wound her arms around her friend's shoulders to hold her in place so Brittany's wheels wouldn't allow her to escape this time.

"Can I see it? Please?"

The tips of Brittany's ears turned pink as she felt Santana's breath tickle across her skin but she finally complied. Her companion accepted the proffered pad and examined it.

"Wow, that's really good, Britt," Santana praised before clearing her throat. "But... um... Where are my clothes?"

"I ran out of red a while back, so I wouldn't have been able to color in a uniform," Brittany explained while rubbing the back of her neck, as if that gave her a perfectly legitimate excuse to draw her best friend naked. "Now, here, sit down."

She got up and urged Santana back onto the bed with gentle pushes until she was propped against the pillows.

"The subject isn't supposed to move while the artist is working," Brittany told her very seriously. "You have to hold really still."

Santana found herself smiling again but she nodded obediently. Brittany went to her desk and picked up her box of colored pencils. She settled back onto the mattress and peered into the container. After studying her options carefully, she pulled up a single brown pencil and held it up to Santana's face. She rested it against the other girl's cheek and checked to see if it matched her irises. With a dissatisfied sigh, Brittany returned the pencil to its former place and tried another. This one was so dark it was almost black; she nodded her approval after comparing it to her friend's eyes.

Brittany lifted her sketch pad and filled in the corresponding place on the drawing. Her tongue curled around her teeth while she concentrated on controlling the movements of her hand. Santana giggled, but a brief reprimanding look from her artist reminded her that she wasn't allowed to budge. From there, Brittany colored in the lips and the hair, both only after going through several less-than-accurate choices until she settled on the right selection. Then it was time for the skin. She inched a bit closer, working her way through her collection of tan-ish hues one by one. When she found the one she liked, Brittany propped the box of pencils against Santana's knee and set to work. This took her considerably longer than the other portions, since there were so many curves and limbs for her to fill in with this shade.

With that work done, there was one remaining hue that she needed to confirm. Brittany grabbed the box once more and knelt at Santana's side. With a mischievous smile, she reached around the other girl's back and slowly unzipped the top of her uniform. Santana still couldn't believe she was letting her do this, but she made no move to protest. Brittany slid the material down her arms and set it aside on the comforter. Then she hooked one long, slender finger around the middle of her companion's bra and pulled it away from her skin. She peeped over the edge and nodded before returning her attention to the colors in her hand to find the matching pencil.

Santana's face was burning by now but the attention was so flattering that she opted not to point out how ridiculous this whole thing was. Instead, she pushed herself forward to look over Brittany's shoulder and help her find the right choice to finish the piece. She gasped as she looked down.

"Brittany Pierce, you are so full of crap!" Santana exclaimed with a shriek as she snatched the box away. "There are at least five different shades of red in here!"

"But none of them are the right kind," Brittany protested and straddled her to reach for the pack in the other girl's hand.

"Bull," Santana argued and tucked the pencils under her back.

Brittany fished under her friend's body to reach them. She leaned in close as her fingers wriggled toward the stolen item.

"Perv," Santana purred teasingly.

She arched to connect Brittany's mouth with hers and both the pencils and the drawing were forgotten. Brittany held onto Santana's shoulders and kissed her hungrily. Everything else was hastily kicked or shoved off the mattress until only the pillows and covers remained.

"You know," Santana joked as Brittany unzipped the back of her own uniform and shed the top from her torso. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think maybe you planned this little portrait seduction."

"Would that be so bad?" Brittany queried while wriggling free from her skirt.

"No," Santana conceded reluctantly. "But you know that we're just messing around, right? No big deal. I mean, you have Mike and I -"

"Neither of us has anybody right now," Brittany cut her off as her brows knitted together. "Mike tags along when the Cheerios have gotta bring a jock someplace, but we're not together. Plus, you just broke up with Puck the other week, remember? We can do whatever we want."

"Right," Santana agreed with a forced shrug. "And, right now, we're just passing the time. Fooling around between relationships isn't so bad if it's with a friend. It keeps us both in practice and lets us get our kicks instead of suffering through a post-break up dry spell."

Brittany purposely broke eye contact and ran her palms over Santana's thighs.

"Right," she murmured in agreement. "It's just temporary. You know, until we get boyfriends again."

"Exactly," Santana affirmed before kissing the other girl's neck. "Somebody on the team's bound to get their ass in gear and ask us out. Cheerleaders as hot as we are don't stay single for long. Until then, we'll just take matters into our own hands."

"Totally," Brittany concurred and shut her eyes tightly. "This is just for fun."

… … …

"Frannie, I'm scared."

The fragile strength Quinn had been trying to summon inside herself felt even weaker as she heard how childlike her voice sounded in the small room. She was perched on the examination chair as though she were about to bolt out the door. It jarred her nerves even further every time she shifted her weight and the thin, crinkly white paper beneath her rustled noisily.

"You don't have to feel ashamed, you know," Frannie offered kindly after studying her sister's face for a moment. "A lot of emotions are bound to be running through you right now, but don't let all Dad's fire and brimstone make you feel like you're headed to hell in a hand basket, okay?"

"It sure feels like it," Quinn whispered and wrung her hands together fretfully.

"Well, you're not. Listen, Dad's only concerned with his sense of right and wrong when it suits his best interests," Frannie stated matter-of-factly. "You just focus on what's best for you and, if he's got a problem, he can cram it into one of those over-priced cigars and smoke it."

"How am I going to get out of that house in one piece?" Quinn asked shakily. "Between home and high school, I don't feel like I stand a chance."

Frannie's expression darkened and she stared at the painting of the Blackthorn tree on the wall for quite some time.

"I know what you mean," she said at last in a voice that barely carried over the wind howling outside. "I felt the same way before I got out of there. All I can really say is don't look to me for a model of how to survive the last few years between you and adulthood."

The door opened with a click of the latch and both Fabray sisters jumped at the sound. Quinn reached for Frannie's hand as a wave of nausea overcame her at the sight of the clipboard in the doctor's hands. Frannie hurried to her sister's side and held onto her tightly.

"Well, congratulations, young lady," the man said without preamble. "Looks like you're going to be a mommy."

A ringing deep within Quinn's ears seemed to drown out everything that came out of the doctor's mouth after that moment. She was dimly aware of Frannie crying and kissing her hair before asking questions about what else would need to be done before they could go home. Through every test and examination, Frannie remained stubbornly close to her sister, even when the doctor implied it might be best for her to wait behind the privacy curtain. Even in spite of the complete numbness that had separated Quinn from the world, she felt a faint stirring of pride at how her older sibling drew herself up to her full height and would not be moved.

Approximately half an hour later, Quinn shuffled out of the building toward her sister's waiting car. Frannie kept close but refrained from touching her younger sibling, in case the girl needed space to process the turn her life had taken. Once they were both safely buckled, a thick and nearly impenetrable silence blanketed the interior of the vehicle.

"This is it, isn't it?" Quinn asked in a hollow voice. "My life is over."

"Not necessarily," Frannie consoled her. "I know I'm not around much anymore but I do know you, Quinn. I know how strong you can be. The only way this is going to break you is if you let it."

"So what do I do?"

"Don't tell Mom and Dad yet," Frannie replied immediately. "It's going to suck having to watch your every move and hide the secret, I know, but you need more time. Dad's all excited about that Chastity Ball thing. The irony will not be lost on him, I'm sure, but it's gonna make him ballistic if he gets so much as an inkling right now. Maybe, by the time that's all over with, you and I will have come up with a way to break it to them."

"You'll come to the house when I do it?" Quinn asked hopefully. "You'll stay with me while I tell them?"

"Scout's honor," Frannie nodded. "Until then, here..."

She rummaged in her purse and pressed a thick wad of cash into her sister's palm.

"Holy crap! Frannie, where did you get this?" Quinn gawped as her eyes bulged.

"It's money I've set aside from my catering jobs. Totally independent from any of the funds I share with Thomas, so this is just between you and me."

"I can't take this," Quinn protested.

"Like hell you can't," Frannie countered obstinately. "Last time I checked, teenage boys were not the most resourceful source for a reliable income, and you haven't even talked to the father yet. We can't count on him supporting you, and I want you to have something to fall back on if he doesn't."

"It's just so much," Quinn continued. "What were you saving all of this for anyway? Were you going somewhere?"

A flicker of emotion crossed the older woman's features before she shook her head.

"Never mind that," Frannie said. "It can wait; this can't. Have you thought about what you're going to say to your boyfriend?"

"Yes, but I haven't been able to come up with anything that sounds very convincing," Quinn muttered glumly.

"Well, I know you'll want to word it a little more delicately, but wouldn't it go something along the lines of, 'Hey, remember that time six weeks ago? If not, in about eight more months I'll have something that might refresh your memory.'?"

Quinn smiled ruefully but shook her head.

"How come?" Frannie queried. "I mean, if the two of you have been - ahem -getting more familiar, it can't come as a complete shock, can it? Unless... unless..."

Her voice trailed off when she noted the way Quinn was curling up her body and raking her fingers along her scalp.

"Unless that boy isn't the father."

No answer this time, only an increase in the younger woman's obvious distress.

"Shit," Frannie swore quietly. "I wish I could help you through this one, sweetheart, but I'm afraid I'm out of my depth here."

She reached for Quinn's hand and wove their fingers together.

"It's okay," Quinn insisted in an effort to wipe the concern away from her sister's face. "I'll think of something. Finn will stick by me, I'm sure of it. As for the real father... He was a mistake I shouldn't have made. If things work out as planned, he never has to know."

… … …

_So much for planning_.

Quinn's week had gone from awful, to horrible, to outright catastrophic with a swiftness that left her reeling. Telling Finn had gone off without a hitch. He had been everything she could have hoped and more. Just as shocked and scared as she was, but a pillar of strength when she needed one the most. Unfortunately, pillars of strength needed confidantes, too, and he had naturally gone to his best friend for an outlet: Puck.

It wasn't long before the other boy tracked Quinn down in the hallway and demanded an explanation. It was a fine line to walk, the edge between rage at the part he'd played and apologetic regret that she had to swear him to secrecy. Quinn made it through with clenched teeth and an aching heart but, at least when she finally ran away, he did not follow.

The rain pouring down relentlessly from the clouds overhead couldn't have picked a more fitting time to fall. The drops soaked icily through her uniform but helped to mask the tears she'd finally allowed to escape once no one else could see. Quinn sought shelter in her car and thought she might finally get a moment's respite to regain her composure.

Only she was not alone.

Sitting in the passenger seat, of all the people in the entire world, had been Mrs. Schuester. Quinn had never seen the woman before in her life. While her head was teeming with a thousand questions - namely how the woman had gotten into her car and how she had obtained all of her information - it was all Quinn could do to take in what Mr. Schuester's wife was saying.

_She was offering her an out_.

Carry the baby to full term, follow her explicit instructions, and the Schuesters would adopt the child once it was born. It was an unanticipated offer, and one that didn't quite sit well with Quinn in the back of her mind, but the opportunity to have a measure of certainty in this chaotic situation was too good to decline.

She'd accepted before she even had a chance to search her heart on the matter, and Mrs. Schuester was gone from the car just as abruptly as she had made her presence known. Quinn remained alone in the driver's seat and watched the rivulets running down her windshield while goosebumps rose on her arms.

"I can do this," she stated aloud to no one in particular - or, perhaps, to herself.

Everything was as close to taken care of as possible. Finn had agreed to weather the storm without so much as a moment's hesitation; Puck had been told to keep his knowledge to himself; she had a decent amount of money from her sister for any emergencies that arose, and now the baby would have a happy home with people actually old enough to raise a child.

_Maybe Frannie will be right after all. It might not be the end of everything_, Quinn thought as she doodled shapes on the fogged up glass. _All I have to do is keep the secret until the time is right_.

… … …

Santana strolled casually through the empty hallways and listened to the soft squeak of her white trainers on the linoleum. She was careful to hurry past the small windows built into the classroom doors, just in case a teacher should look out and take it upon themselves to send her back to her sixth period. She hated sitting through Spanish and was not keen on being forced to return to it. Mr. Schue wasn't teaching her anything she didn't already know. Plus, it was nearly impossible to focus when the day was so close to being over and Brittany's hand was perpetually touching her. There were taps on her wrist to get her attention, whispered questions in her ear, or sometimes a hand gripping hers anxiously under the table on the rare occasion that Brittany was called upon for an answer. It was maddening.

As she rounded the corner, Santana found herself drawing nearer to the auditorium at the opposite end of the hall and faint music began to reach her ears. It was a solitary guitar playing the intro to something that sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn't quite seem to place the tune in her mind. Cautiously, Santana continued walking until she reached the open door and then peered inside. There, seated center stage on a stool, was Puck. He had his guitar propped against one knee and was strumming pensively. Intrigued, Santana took a few more steps. She pressed her body to the back wall and advanced circuitously, keeping to the shadows so that he wouldn't be aware of her presence. Not tearing her eyes from his oddly tortured features, she felt her way to an empty seat and settled into it. As Santana crossed one leg over the other and folded her hands on her knee, Puck at last began to sing.

"_When I was young I knew everything_

_She a punk who rarely ever took advice_

_Now I'm guilt-stricken, sobbing_

_With my head on the floor_

_Stop a baby's breath and a shoe full of rice, no…_"

The lyrics finally rang a familiar bell but she still couldn't riddle out what had possessed Puck to sing this song in the middle of the school day, sitting all alone under the spotlight with that look on his face. A strange, clawing doubt began to scrape at her gut, but Santana pushed it down as she struggled to focus on his performance.

"_I can't be held responsible_

_She was touching her face_

_I won't be held responsible_

_She fell in love in the first place…_"

Was that a tear sliding down his face? Santana's brow furrowed and her lip curled. What the hell was going on here? He was singing to a goddamned empty theatre and there he was getting all emotional for no apparent reason. She very nearly got up to demand details then and there but something inside held her in place as Puck continued.

"_For the life of me_

_I cannot remember_

_What made us think that we were wise _

_And we'd never compromise._

_For the life of me _

_I cannot believe we'd ever die for these sins_

_We were merely freshmen_."

By now, confused panic was gripping Santana's chest and she could hardly keep herself silent as he sang the rest of the song. The words made less and less sense as Puck progressed but the regret and pain on his face only intensified. As he reached the final two repetitions of the chorus, Santana rose from her seat and slowly approached the foot of the stage. Puck gave his guitar one last strum and looked up into the light, closing his eyes with a sigh.

Santana clapped as she ascended the small set of steps and Puck visibly jumped when he realized that he was not alone.

"Intense," Santana remarked. "I hadn't pegged you for a performer, at least not on the stage."

"Yeah, I guess not. Still, I mean, music's pretty cool and all, so being up here's not that bad."

"It looks like you think it's more than 'not that bad,'" Santana commented. "You were fucking crying, man."

"How long have you been here?" Puck asked with wide eyes, clearly dismayed to learn that she had seen how deeply the song affected him.

"Never mind that. Why the waterworks, Puckerman?"

"It just kinda got to me, I guess. I heard it on the radio in my car the other day and it hit home. The dudes in the song fucked up royally and so have I."

"How?"

Puck didn't answer her at first. Instead, he got to his feet and walked over to the open case at the edge of the stage. He gently placed his guitar inside and closed the lid before locking it securely. Then he stood upright again and walked back to her. One hand lifted from his side and reached for her arm, as if he was considering holding her hand, but then it dropped back to his thigh. Puck exhaled heavily and cast a quick glance around, struggling for a gentle way to say what couldn't be avoided. Finally, he settled on giving her a simple statement of the truth.

"Quinn's pregnant."

Santana nearly choked. Her eyes bulged and she sputtered a little.

"What? How could you possibly know th—"

"I know because I'm the father."

Santana stared. Her mouth hung agape and her eyes blinked several times as she struggled to process this. Then a frightening spark ignited in her pupils and she rushed at him.

"You asshole!" she shrieked, pounding her fists ineffectively against his chest. "You freaking asshole! How could you?"

Puck cowered but made no move to stop her or escape. He seemed to consider this a fitting punishment for his deeds.

"She's one of my best friends, Puck! That'd be like if I started fooling around with Finn! Oh, God, Finn! Your best friend's girlfriend… Did that not occur to you at all? You couldn't have made this more screwed up if you tried! Do you have any idea how humiliating this is?"

Santana's eyes were burning with tears that her anger allowed her to keep from falling, but as Puck's gaze met hers she lost that control. Her lip trembled and several drops slid down to her chin.

"I'm sorry, Santana," Puck said softly. "I know it was a mistake. It was a huge mistake. I've screwed things up for a lot of people. I don't know why I did it; it just happened."

"I take it you haven't told anyone else?"

"No. No one else can know," Puck insisted urgently.

"Well, people around here may be a bit slow, but they're going to know that something's rotten in the state of Denmark considering that Finn's still a fucking virgin!" Santana pointed out sarcastically.

"I know, I know!" the boy exclaimed. His hands hovered over his ears, as if he could block out the harsh facts she was hurling at him until he had some sort of miraculous solution.

"How am I going to face her?" Santana murmured to herself as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you manwhoring around stopped surprising me a long time ago. But Quinn! We were supposed to be friends. We were supposed to trust each other. That backstabbing bitch…"

Puck clearly objected to Santana's assessment of her companion, but he kept that to himself in favor of stepping forward to hug her as she started to cry harder. For a fraction of a second, Santana nearly accepted the embrace, but then she shouldered him off and backed away.

"I won't tell anybody about this," Santana assured him. "I'll keep your secret, but don't expect anything past that. You and me? We're done. Just stay the hell away from me. And as for her? Well, I'll handle that myself."

She turned on her heel and descended the stairs.

"Santana, wait!" Puck called after her. "Don't let Quinn know that you know!"

"Fat chance of that!" Santana retorted derisively without looking back. "I want her to realize just how quickly I could destroy her, if I wanted. The thing is that I won't actually do it because – unlike her – I know better than to screw with a friend!"


	7. Together We Stand

**AN**: The lyrics that appear in this chapter are from The End by Ellie Goulding.

* * *

Brittany picked up a hacky sack off the window ledge and hefted it in her palm. She bounced it a few times before tossing it in the direction of the brooding girl sprawled across the picnic table.

"Think fast," Brittany teased just before it struck Santana's chest.

Santana spared the object only a fleeting glance before she went back to staring at the changing leaves on the oak tree a short distance away.

"What's up?" Brittany asked with her head tilted to one side. "You've barely said a word since we got home from school."

"I'm thinking."

Brittany rose from her lawn chair and settled onto the bench beside Santana. She rested her arms on the other girl's midriff.

"About what?"

"Revenge," Santana stated simply.

Brittany's brow furrowed. She scooted to the right to get a better look at Santana's eyes.

"That sounds serious," Brittany remarked.

"It is. I've got a bone to pick with our so-called bestie," Santana grumbled. "There's gonna be a reckoning."

"Quinn?" Brittany deduced. "Why are you mad at her?"

"Puck got her pregnant."

Brittany's eyes filled with sympathy.

"Oh. He told you."

Santana sat up abruptly.

"You _knew_?"

"I'm the one who got Quinn her pregnancy test," Brittany admitted sheepishly. "She didn't want her parents to find out, so I said I'd help."

"But why didn't you tell _me_?"

"I wanted to, Santana, more than anything, but she made me promise."

Santana crossed her arms and glared at her own kneecaps.

"Well, looks like they were right after all. The one getting cheated on is always the last to know."

"But you and Puck –," Brittany began to protest until a sideways glance from Santana silenced her.

They both sighed heavily.

"So, what are you going to do?" Brittany asked tentatively.

"I don't know yet," Santana said. "I need to give it some thought. I wanted to just beat the crap out of her, but she's got a mini-Mohawk gestating in there and I don't want anything to happen to it. It's not that kid's fault its mom's a tramp."

"Three people wouldn't make her a tramp," Brittany countered without thinking.

Santana's eyes narrowed.

"Three?" she repeated testily.

"Yeah." Brittany shrugged. "Fooling around with a couple and sleeping with one is way less than most of the girls on the squad have done."

Santana waved that thought aside and pursed her lips.

"It's not the nature of the contact I'm hung up on here, Britts. It's the number."

Her dark irises locked on Brittany's face until the other girl squirmed. Santana held her fingers aloft to tick off the count.

"Finn makes one, although I highly doubt anything they got up to constituted 'fooling around.' Puck is two and, as he made abundantly clear this afternoon, he scored a homerun. So who's the third?"

Brittany lowered her gaze and stared at her hands.

"Britt-Britt?" Santana's voice came out feeble and fragile.

"Me," Brittany answered quietly.

Santana swung her legs in the opposite direction and stomped across the yard. She kicked a plastic bucket in the grass and it flew through the air, bouncing off the Pierces' fence.

"GODDAMN IT!"

Brittany hung her head and scuffed her feet against the ground.

"What the hell does Quinn have, a magnetic fucking vagina?!" Santana fumed. "My boyfriend and my best friend! Why doesn't everyone just join the party? Take a number at the door, because all of western Ohio's parading through Quinn Fabray's bedroom!"

"It wasn't like that," Brittany said, still scarcely daring to look up. "After we dropped you off from that party, we had some drinks and made out on her couch for a while. It could have gone further, but I stopped it."

"Why?"

Brittany blinked slowly and her mouth turned down in a wounded frown.

"For you."

"Well, I'm glad you gave me that slight consideration while your tongue was already halfway down her throat," Santana drawled. "This day just keeps getting better and better."

"I don't get it."

"Get what? Why the world's gone collectively crazy? Neither do I! If you figure out an answer, by all means, be sure to share," Santana snapped.

"No, not that," Brittany shook her head.

She walked to where Santana had begun pacing and stood in front of her.

"Why is it okay for you to do stuff with Puck all the time but not for me to make out with Quinn once?"

Santana's mouth opened and closed indignantly before she finally formulated a response.

"Because he's my boyfriend! Or he was. You and Quinn are friends. That's just weird and fucked up."

"But you and I do stuff and it's not weird."

"I – You can't compare – That's totally different!" Santana threw her hands in the air and whirled away, avoiding Brittany's eyes.

"How?" Brittany demanded with her feet planted firmly on the ground and her hands on her hips. "How is it different?"

Santana grabbed her backpack and swung it onto her shoulders.

"It just is, okay?" she replied without looking back. "I'm going to my house. I'll see you at school tomorrow."

Then Santana passed under the lattice arch and strode toward the driveway. The rev of an engine a few moments later announced the girl's departure and her friend was left alone. Brittany rubbed the back of her hand under her nose and flopped down on the picnic bench again. Her shoulders sagged and a small whimper escaped her before she fell completely silent and stared blankly at the ground beneath her feet.

… … …

Quinn fell onto the linoleum with both knees. There was no time to steady herself, barely a moment to gather her hair in her hand, before she retched into the basin of one of the filthy school toilets. It had almost become a routine over the past week or so, this rush to the girls' bathroom and the race against the bile rising in her throat.

She groaned and snatched blindly for toilet paper to dab at her lips. Now that the need to empty her stomach had passed, at least for the moment, her vision gradually stopped spinning and she was able to rise shakily from the floor. Quinn flushed the toilet with her wrist, left the stall, and stumbled toward a sink. Cool soap and warm water ran over her skin and helped to calm her nerves.

Then someone spoke from the corner of the room.

"Feeling a little under the weather, princess?" Santana asked with mock concern.

"Y-yeah, a little," Quinn replied while shoving her disheveled hair back away from her face.

"You rushed out mid-song on us, there." Santana sauntered along the line of sinks until she reached the other girl's side. "Rachel would never approve of such behavior from her understudy."

"Well, Rachel's not here," Quinn snarled irritably with one palm pressed against her pounding forehead. "And I'm not her understudy. I'm her replacement."

"Mmm, and soon she'll be yours," Santana nodded.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Let's just say a certain quarterback won't want your goods once he knows who damaged them."

The first flicker of fear appeared in Quinn's eyes and Santana smirked in satisfaction.

"You've still got some time before he figures out the truth," Santana said. "Don't worry. He has a few other things to riddle first out that should take him a while– tying his shoes, chewing with his mouth closed, how to form a facial expression that doesn't look either confused or constipated or both at the same time…"

"Santana—" Quinn warned dangerously.

"Ah, ah, ah." Santana waggled her index finger. "Not finished. See, when the time comes, he and Beaky will be off making beautiful music while you and your sex shark sperm donor are scrambling to find two pennies to rub together."

She put a hand on Quinn's shoulder.

"And to think I was trying to come up with a lesson of my own to teach you when, let's face it, the path you're already on will be punishment enough."

Tears rimmed Quinn's eyes and she searched Santana's face desperately.

"What am I going to do?"

"That's for you to figure out," Santana shrugged indifferently. "See, thanks to a little thing called a condom, it's not my problem. The best I can tell you is not to wait on your baby daddy – the real deal or the faux one – to bail you out of this mess. They're both crap in a crisis."

She turned away and strode back toward the door.

"You're on your own now, cupcake," Santana called back over her shoulder. "Sink or swim, it's up to you."

… … …

Mr. Schuester had officially lost his mind.

This was the only logical conclusion Brittany could reach after he brought in a bubbly, alcoholic, old schoolmate of his to join their Glee Club.

It was bad enough when one of their members had been calling the shots but, now that Rachel had left to be part of a production of Cabaret, their teacher's solution was to bring in another song-stealer? Brittany could almost feel the collective dip in the club's spirits when they realized that, once again, their light would be outshone by the person Will had placed in the spotlight.

Mr. Schue must have sensed their disapproval, or April herself reached the conclusion that she was unwelcome, because she spent the subsequent week trying to win over each of the kids in some way or other.

"She kinda came to see us in the locker rooms this afternoon," Mike confided reluctantly on Wednesday.

He skimmed over the details of the encounter and stammered more than anything. However, Brittany could guess by the way he was embarrassedly rubbing the back of his neck just what sort of visit it had been. From what she could pick out of the boy's fumbling story, April had favored Puck most of all – no surprise.

Brittany said nothing of what she had learned. Still, one look at how Santana glared daggers at the older woman during the afternoon meeting made it clear she'd heard a similar report. Perhaps that was why April made no attempt to seek out the Cheerios and strike up a rapport; even she could spot a lost cause when she saw one.

Even with April Rhodes crashing on their club like a tidal wave, no one had become distracted enough to forget about Quinn's mysterious illness. Their curiosity was only piqued further by the fact that, each morning during classes, she had to make repeated requests to be excused to the bathroom.

"I hate to burst her little bubble," Santana remarked to Brittany in an undertone after Quinn had slipped out of the room for the third time that class period. "But this secret's gonna come out a whole hell of a lot faster than she wants it to if she can't figure out a way to stop tossing her cookies on the regular."

Brittany said nothing as she stared at the door that had closed behind her friend. Instead, she crossed her fingers at her sides for luck that – at this point – it seemed only divine intervention could provide.

That Thursday, while waiting for Mr. Schuester to arrive and bring them all to order, the Glee Club convened around the piano to swap their theories. Brittany and Santana kept their distance, feigning ignorance of the truth behind their friend's distress. Though she said very little - and had, in fact, been uncharacteristically quiet all week – Santana allowed Brittany to massage her shoulders and toy with her hair while they listened in on what the others had to say.

Brittany heard them theorize everything from mono to lactose intolerance to simply being antisocial before Puck finally rose from where he had been strumming his guitar in the corner and interrupted.

"Are you all _that_ stupid?"

The room fell silent and all eyes focused on him. Hungry as they were for answers, no one anticipated what he said next.

"_Maybe_ Quinn's got one in the oven."

Even Santana couldn't keep her jaw from dropping. He had actually put forth the suggestion that Quinn might be pregnant. She held up a hand to still Brittany's movement. They both turned toward the boy expectantly, waiting to see just how much he would choose to divulge.

As Puck walked to the center of the room, Brittany found herself holding her breath. Here it was; he held in his hands the chance to either agree to Quinn's lie or tear the ruse to shreds. Then Mercedes asked the fateful question.

"Who's the baby's daddy?"

"Who do you think?" Puck fired back.

Brittany's fingers fiddled nervously with Santana's ponytail, waiting.

"Finn!" Puck supplied when no one filled in the silence for him.

Everyone's face lit up, clearly savoring this fresh gossip. Meanwhile, the tension gradually left Santana's and Brittany's bodies.

At that exact moment, Rachel breezed through the open doorway of the choir room.

"Yes, you heard right, I am returning to Glee Club!" she announced, completing a conversation that no one had been having.

Nonplussed by her exuberance, everyone carried on whispering as if she weren't there at all. Puck observed the scene and shook his head before leaving the room in disgust, although with the New Directions or himself, Brittany couldn't tell.

Mercedes and Kurt filled Rachel in on what Puck had just told everyone. The moment she heard that Quinn was expecting and Finn was the father, all the light drained from the girl's expression. Without another sound, Rachel turned on her heel and stormed out into the hall.

"And so it begins," Santana muttered darkly.

Brittany found that her throat was too dry to respond, so she merely nodded her head in agreement.

… … …

The weekend arrived and, with it, the night of the New Directions' very first invitational. All of the club members were full of nervous, buzzing energy despite the fact that they would only be singing backup to April's vocals.

Now the only concern was whether their leading lady would be able to arrive sober enough to actually perform.

The moment she walked into the room, Quinn smelled the all-too-familiar stench on her. It hung in the air around the older woman like a fog. April greeted each of the kids in turn and, when she reached Puck, asked him something about practicing moves.

As April sloppily kissed him, Quinn felt her stomach turn. Santana, however, began to smirk with a bloodthirsty glint in her eye. Quinn suspected that her friend believed this inappropriate behavior would mean April's expulsion from the group.

If that had been Santana's hope, she was sorely disappointed. Will reprimanded April mildly but still allowed her to lead the way out onto the stage with the Glee kids in tow.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen," Principal Figgins' voice announced from the other side of the curtain. "Please welcome McKinley High School's New Directions!"

The curtains lifted and Quinn could feel her heart hammering behind her ribcage when the audience greeted them with a warm round of applause.

Their first number went off without a hitch. April was a little unsteady at times, but her singing was unaffected. The kids allowed themselves to tentatively ease into the joy of performing and forget about their worries for a little while. When they left the glow of the lights, however, Will followed April on her way to the bathroom. He did not look happy.

Quinn and the others returned to the green room to change clothes and fix their makeup and hair. Kurt offered to do the touchups and even allowed Santana to climb onto the stool in front of him. Brittany hovered nearby under the pretense of enjoying the shared conversation. Quinn alone recognized the quiet '_be nice'_ warning in the other blonde's eyes each time Santana came perilously close to saying something offensive.

Finn was nearby hopping clumsily as he crammed one foot into a shoe. Then he began struggling with his tie but his fingers tangled up in the fabric. Quinn chuckled affectionately and helped him.

"Thanks," he murmured gratefully. "It always comes out crooked when I try."

"No problem," Quinn replied. "I've helped my dad hundreds of times. He's hopeless unless Mom or I put it right."

Will returned to the room looking considerably more worn and dejected than he had when Quinn spotted him right after their first number. April was nowhere to be seen. Mr. Schuester eased into the bad news, but it threw the group into a dead quiet when he uttered the words. They had lost their lead. The rest of the invitational would have to be cancelled.

Quinn took in the disappointed faces around the room, her two friends and boyfriend included, and was surprised to find that even she was sad to hear that they wouldn't be returning to the stage. Her gaze eventually returned to the doorway in which Mr. Schue stood, only to have her attention caught by someone lingering in the shadows.

"Excuse me," Rachel said softly. "I think I might have a solution. In show business, when a star can't perform, her understudy steps in. I'd be happy to go on for April, if you'd let me."

Though this was a decidedly more humble Rachel Berry than the one that had left them a short while ago, her return left everyone's emotions torn – to rejoice over the continuation of their performance or begrudge her return to stardom?

"I know all the words to the song," Rachel offered timidly to the less-than-impressed faces staring back at her.

"You don't know the choreography," Quinn countered.

"Then we're gonna have to give her a lot of help out there," Finn determined. He graced the petite girl with an encouraging smile.

Quinn deflated and made no further protest. Reluctantly, everyone agreed to guide Rachel along as necessary in order to salvage the night and the show. They tucked their ironed blue shirts into their black slacks and adjusted their ties before making their way back into the view of the waiting audience.

Rachel truly did help save the day, regardless of how reluctant everyone was to admit it. The applause was double what they'd gotten with April and, scattered throughout the house, the Glee kids' parents who were in attendance gave them a standing ovation. Quinn found herself grinning despite her own parents' absence and gladly took her bows with the other singers.

When everyone had returned to their usual daywear, Will asked Quinn and Rachel to carry the boxes of cowboy hats back to the drama club's costume room. Quinn hefted the cardboard in her arms and walked in that direction, but not before Rachel closed the distance between them and adopted her pace.

"How did I do?" Rachel asked.

"You were great. Just like always." Quinn rolled her eyes.

"You really think so?" Rachel beamed.

Quinn looked at her and saw the excited glow that lit up her features.

"Yes," she confessed reluctantly. "The audience totally loved it. It was… It was better than having to dance around April and all her staggering."

A tiny smile appeared on Rachel's face and she nodded.

"Inviting that woman to be a part of the Glee Club may have been a slight lapse in judgment on Mr. Schuester's part," Rachel remarked.

Quinn snorted.

"Yeah, a slight one."

"So… How did it feel?"

"How did what feel?" Quinn demanded. She held the door open for Rachel to enter the costume room.

"Being out on the stage," Rachel elaborated and reached for the box in Quinn's hand after setting her own on the floor. "This was your first big performance in front of an audience, right? What did you think?"

Quinn wrapped her arms around her middle and averted her gaze from Rachel's. The other girl deliberately stepped into her line of sight and nudged her in the ribs.

"Well?" Rachel queried.

Quinn smiled in spite of herself.

"I loved it."

… … …

"C'mon, Lord Tubbington. You need variety in your diet," Brittany pleaded and scooted the bowl toward the cat with her foot. "You can't keep eating everything smothered in gravy. You'll have a heart attack."

Lord Tubbington sniffed the dry cat food and turned up his nose.

"Still not having it, is he?" Santana guessed through the phone.

"Nope. He looks like he's planning mutiny," Brittany fretted.

"Be careful putting on your slippers this week. He may leave an expression of his gratitude in them."

Brittany sighed and left Lord Tubbington alone to continue glaring at his dinner.

"How are things at your house tonight?"

"Boring as hell, same as ever," Santana groused. "At least Matyas is over at his friend's house, so I'm getting a little peace and quiet."

"What are you gonna do tomorrow?" Brittany asked as she ascended the stairs to her room.

"I was actually thinking of swinging by Mike's house," Santana replied casually.

Brittany choked and sputtered.

"Wait, what?"

"Mike's house," Santana repeated. "He's shooting hoops with that guy Matt tomorrow and I thought I'd swing by and say hello."

"Your dance partner when we sang Last Name with the Glee Club," Brittany recalled. She closed her eyes and flopped back onto her mattress.

"Yeah, him," Santana confirmed brightly. "We kinda hit it off and I want to see him again."

Brittany rolled over onto her stomach and buried her face in the covers.

"That's nice," she responded in a muffled voice.

"Exactly," Santana enthused. "Matt is a _nice_ guy. Maybe that's just what I need, a change of pace. I mean, Mike's a nice guy and you guys get along really well."

"Yeah, he is," Brittany agreed reluctantly. "I mean, you didn't always think so…"

"I did give him kind of a hard time, didn't I?"

"Kind of."

"Well, I'm mending fences now," Santana determined. "Besides, I've gotta get your arm candy to talk me up to his buddy, so Mikey and I will be extra chummy until I get some results."

"He's not—," Brittany started to argue but then she just shook her head. "I'm glad you guys are going to be able to talk now. I always thought you'd like him, if you gave him a chance."

"I'll be sure to tell you how it goes when I get back," Santana said excitedly. "Listen, though. I'm gonna get off the line now and make myself a late dinner before I head to bed. I'll need to get up bright and early if my jog is going to take me past the Changs' house on time."

"You're _jogging_ there?"

"Yeah," Santana answered casually. "I've already got the black sports bra and blue shorts set out on my dresser. I figured it wouldn't hurt to showcase the benefits of agreeing to my offer."

Brittany knew Santana had shot her a wink through the phone but she ignored the girl's playful tone and pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingertips.

"Good luck."

"Thanks, Britt. Goodnight!"

Brittany pressed the red button on her cell phone and tossed it aside. A disgruntled meow announced the presence of someone else on the bed that she hadn't noticed.

"Oh, sorry, Lord Tubbington," Brittany apologized. "I didn't notice you there."

The cat turned away sullenly and Brittany frowned. She tugged him into a tight embrace and cuddled her pet close to her heart. Lord Tubbington closed his eyes tolerantly while Brittany pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"It's okay, boy," Brittany whispered, although the crack in her voice suggested otherwise. "You have me all to yourself for the rest of the weekend."

… … …

Quinn peered through the curtains and waited until her parents' car was safely out of sight before she pressed the fifth number on her speed dial and held the cell phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Frannie, it's me," Quinn said quietly.

She heard her older sister sigh with relief on the other end of the line.

"Hey, Goose," Frannie greeted. "I'm glad you found a chance to call. I've been worrying about you. How's the money holding up?"

"Pretty well, considering I haven't used any of it," Quinn admitted reluctantly.

"What? Sweetie, it's meant to help you. Seriously, put it toward whatever you can. Don't worry about paying it back. It's a gift."

"I just have to be really careful," Quinn explained. She folded her legs beneath herself and settled on the floor beside the couch. "These bills are so much more expensive than I expected. Then there are the maternity clothes I'll need…"

"Do you want me to send you more?" Frannie offered.

"No! No," Quinn insisted. "You've already done too much. I've got to find some other way."

"Are you sure there's nothing else I can do to help? Honey, you shouldn't have to go through this alone."

"It won't be alone," Quinn asserted feebly. "I'll have Finn."

"Will he be able to give you any kind of financial assistance with any of this?" Frannie asked. "Does he even have a job?"

"No," Quinn said. "But he could get one. I'm sure he'll do anything and everything to look out for me. He loves me."

"I'm glad to hear that," Frannie replied. "You're going to need each other more and more as this goes on. How is the real father behaving?"

"He's kept his distance, just like I asked him to," Quinn told her. "Thank Heaven for small blessings, I guess."

Frannie chuckled.

"That sounds like a Judy-ism."

"Yeah, Mom does say that a lot. Especially after Dad's… episodes."

Quinn's sister was silent a moment.

"He's still drinking, then?" Frannie asked at last.

"It's not every night or anything," Quinn hastened to explain. "Just, you know, every now and then. Last time, he broke Mom's favorite vase. She was really sad but insisted it was her fault for putting it on a ledge where it might get knocked over."

"Always some other excuse; Russell can never be to blame," Frannie grumbled. "I remember."

"How are you and Thomas?" Quinn inquired, eager to change the subject.

"Our same ol' boring, married selves," Frannie responded sardonically. "The seasons change more often than life in this house."

"Did you talk to him about… about me?"

"No," Frannie replied. "He doesn't really need to know. At least not right now. If you're in over your head, you will tell me, won't you?"

"Y-yeah, of course," Quinn agreed.

"Promise?"

"Sure."

Frannie was quiet again. Quinn could almost envision her sister pursing her lips, debating whether or not to call her out on her lukewarm response.

"Keep me posted then, okay? I love you."

Quinn hugged her thighs to her chest and forced some cheer into her voice.

"I will. I love you, too."

… … …

"Screwed. They are completely screwed," Santana laughed as she and Brittany left the choir room on Monday afternoon.

"It doesn't help that we got Rachel," Brittany added. "Everybody knows how much she likes to win."

Mr. Schuester had split the club into two groups, boys versus girls, to put together their own mash-ups and compete against one another to determine the song they'd use for sectionals.

"Yeah, she does, but she's got another think coming if she's sheltering under the delusion that we're going to let her put this whole thing together," Santana asserted.

"You got that right," Mercedes piped up from behind them. "She had that crazy-ass gleam in her eye but I ain't having it. We're gonna decide on the songs for the mash-up before we even get to that meeting she wants us to have tomorrow. This group's a democracy now and, if it's already been put to a vote, she's just gonna have to cope."

"Damn straight," Santana concurred and gave Mercedes an approving high five before she and Brittany rounded the corner.

Brittany studied Santana curiously, eyebrows lifted so high they nearly touched her hair.

"What?" Santana demanded defensively. "I'm making friends. Aren't you the one who's always after me to play nicely with the other children?"

She gave her friend a teasing smile. Brittany laughed and shook her head.

"I guess. I'm glad you're actually doing it, though."

"Of course I am. I value your opinion most of all." Santana smiled and nudged Brittany with her elbow. "Just a sec. I'm going to use the restroom before we hit the road."

Brittany nodded and leaned against the wall while she waited. She crossed her arms over her chest and closed her eyes.

"Hey, Brittany?"

She squinted out from beneath her eyelids and saw Quinn standing beside her.

"Can I ask you to do me a favor?"

Brittany stood upright again and opened her eyes the rest of the way.

"Sure. What do you need?"

"I'm going to try looking for a job tomorrow afternoon," Quinn confided. "Not for me, but for Finn. I know he's not qualified to do much yet since he hasn't even graduated high school, but we need the money for the baby."

She pressed a palm protectively over her stomach and sighed.

"I've got enough for some of the costs that will be coming up, but it won't take care of everything. The problem is that I'm going to have to miss that meeting. Can you cover for me with Rachel and the others?"

Brittany nodded readily. Quinn gave her a grateful look and hugged her tightly.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "I'd seriously be lost if I didn't have you and my sister looking out for me. You're the best."

"No problem," Brittany replied with a shrug.

"I've gotta go," Quinn said. "Mom's expecting me to come straight home so we can go shoe shopping together. For the chastity ball. I'll see you tomorrow."

Brittany waved before Quinn turned away and exited the school out one of the side doors.

"What did she want?" Santana asked as she reemerged from the bathroom.

"Nothing, really." Brittany looped her arm through the other girl's with a determinedly bright smile. "Let's get out of here."

… … …

_Another day, another morning stuck in a red box_, Quinn thought sullenly.

The sickness had been particularly violent during first period. Now, on her fourth visit to the same bathroom before lunchtime, Quinn had determined it was best to simply remain in the stall until the next wave came, as it inevitably would.

She perched on the toilet seat with her head tilted back, staring at the ceiling while she felt the minutes tick by. Her phone vibrated and Quinn reached for it without looking down. One arm lifted to hold the screen in front of her face.

_You okay?_ the message from Brittany read.

_Yeah. I'll meet up with you guys for lunch, if a whiff of whatever they're making doesn't send me back here again_,Quinn replied.

_I'll save you a spot._

Quinn smiled at the words. After a moment's pause, she switched contacts and fired off another message, this time to Finn.

_I'm really queasy today. Would you mind getting my lunch for me when you get your tray? Then I won't have to get too close to the food smells._

_I can't. I'm not gonna be at lunch today, _Finn answered_. Rachel's practicing for the mash-up in the auditorium. I want to listen in to find out what we're up against._

Quinn glared venomously and sent a few words in response.

_Never mind, then. Forget it._

She checked her watch. There were fifteen minutes left before the bell. It seemed pointless to return for the tail end of the lesson. Instead, Quinn rummaged around in her purse and stumbled upon a scarcely used black permanent marker.

Her eyes fell on the stall wall to her left. Whether it was the boredom or her still-woozy head urging her on, Quinn wasn't sure, but she removed the cap of the marker and made a single dot on the pure expanse of red paint.

She smiled slowly, reveling in this rare instance of rule breaking. Her hand moved again, without so much thought this time, and she found herself drawing the outline of a face. Once the hair was added, Quinn realized the doodle bore a resemblance to someone she knew.

_Rachel_.

Quinn's lip curled. Even without the girl being physically present, she couldn't seem to get away from her. The strokes of her marker formed Rachel's prominent nose. How could Finn be attracted to that face? Wide, overeager brown eyes and a lower lip that protruded at the first sign of anything that might spell bad news for her – she was like a spoiled child.

Her jealousy roiled in her gut and nearly made Quinn nauseous again. She had to lean her head against the wall until it passed. During that moment of reprieve, her hand moved once more and attempted to capture Rachel's face as it appeared when she was singing, with her eyes shut tightly and her mouth forming a perfect 'O.'

Center stage, right where Rachel felt she belonged - getting all the songs, all of the glory and, with Quinn so often out of commission due to her pregnancy, now she was getting all the attention from Finn. Quinn scowled and continued drawing. _Damn Rachel and her damn love affair with the damn spotlight._

The marker was still moving, faster now, mapping out every deficiency that Quinn's envy was currently casting in such garish light. No clothes for this likeness. Instead, narrow shoulders and too-large hands, small breasts and bony legs completed the portrait of her enemy. The figure was seated on the edge of the hastily-sketched stage. Its legs were spread wide and the head was tilted back, as though in ecstasy at the touch of the lines of light coming down from above.

_There are no small parts, only small actors_, she captioned the drawing.

"There," Quinn said aloud.

As her eyes took in the likeness she had created, Quinn's stomach did an unpleasant somersault. The girl's sneakers kicked her purse and notebooks aside before she dropped to her knees. Then Quinn clung to the sides of the toilet bowl for dear life and heaved until she was left completely empty.

… … …

"Well, looks like the plan to wing it has gone out the window." Santana turned to Mercedes as the Glee girls filtered out of the choir room. "What's the new plan?"

"We step up our A-game," Mercedes replied. "Almost all the guys in the boys' group are athletes. Something has officially gone horribly wrong with the universe if a bunch of divas like us with pipes like ours can't wipe the floor with them."

"But h-how are we going t-to be that energetic?" Tina asked. "They didn't just s-sing; they d-danced and kept moving the whole time."

"Fortunately for us, I have enough past experience in choreography to assemble something that requires a similar level of stamina during our mash-up," Rachel said confidently as she caught up with the others.

The group rolled their eyes.

"And you're so sure that whatever you can think up will blow the number they just did out of the water?" Santana challenged.

"Of course," Rachel answered unblinkingly. "Failure is not an option. Leave it to me. We'll discuss the matter further at our next meeting. Clear your schedule tomorrow afternoon, ladies. Don't be late."

"Crap," Santana grumbled as the other girl walked briskly away from them. "By the time she lets us out of that meeting, Quinn's baby will be graduating from this school."

… … …

"I'm not taking it."

"Why not? It's just some vitamin thing. The boys all had it. That's how they were so pumped yesterday. Mrs. Schuester wouldn't have given it to them if it was bad, right? She must know what she's doing if they made her the new school nurse," Santana said. "Kurt figures this evens the odds again so the girls have a chance to win."

"I don't want any. I can keep up on my own," Brittany insisted as she fastened her seatbelt. "I don't like medicine."

"He didn't say anything about it tasting bad or anything. They're just a couple of blue pills to swallow." Santana shrugged and turned the key in the ignition.

"It sounds scary," Brittany said. "It'd make me act a way I don't feel."

"Only temporarily."

Brittany shook her head adamantly.

"My aunt takes pills," she explained. "She starts acting really weird if she doesn't have any."

Santana nodded. Brittany had told her some stories about her mother's sister before.

"Okay, if you're sure," Santana conceded. "If anybody's got a chance of doing it on their own steam, it's you. You're the champion dancer after all."

Her friend beamed at the compliment.

"Rachel says she's won some trophies, too," Brittany recalled.

"Pfft! When she was, like, three," Santana scoffed. "Now the only time she even gets around to dancing is for that ballet elective she takes. If you were in that class, she wouldn't be so quick to brag. Why didn't you take that, by the way?"

"Their pace is kinda slow," Brittany shrugged. "I haven't really been feeling like doing much ballet this year, anyway. I want to focus more on my contemporary."

"Is Mike still studying with you?"

To Brittany's surprise, there seemed to be little to no jealousy in Santana's voice.

"Sometimes. He's been really into jazz, but we have a piece we've been paired off to work on for the winter recital."

"Can't wait to see it," Santana said brightly.

"How are things with Matt?" Brittany asked archly.

"Amazing," Santana gushed. "He actually texts me things that have nothing to do with sex. He remembers what I tell him. Puck could stand to take some lessons from Matt on how a boyfriend's actually supposed to behave."

"Puck?" Brittany repeated worriedly. "Santana, you're not with both of them are you?"

"Of course not," Santana laughed lightly. "I'm only dating Matt. Puck is just for… moonlighting."

Brittany shook her head sadly.

"Don't worry, Britt-Britt," Santana assured her with a kiss on the nose when they reached the first stoplight. "I've got everything under control. No love triangle drama for me. That's Quinn's area of expertise."

… … …

"Just take a look at them, okay?" Quinn urged gently. "I know they're nothing to get excited about, but we've got to take whatever we can find."

She fanned printed job descriptions out in front of Finn on the Hudsons' kitchen table. His mother was out grocery shopping, so this was a rare opportunity in which they could speak freely to one another about the problems they were facing.

"I don't know. A lot of this sounds like secretary stuff," Finn grimaced.

"A few of the positions do involve typing, yes," Quinn conceded. "But you use your laptop. This isn't that different."

Finn lifted the sheets of paper in his hands and shuffled through them.

"I tried to find another way. I spoke to the woman I told you about," Quinn explained vaguely, grateful that Finn never pressed her for a name. "She still wants to be the adoptive mother."

This news was met with a nervous nod.

"Is that what you want?" Finn verified. "To give it up?"

"I don't want to think of it as giving up," Quinn said. "I want to think of it as choosing the best road, for us and the baby."

"What else did the lady say?" Finn asked. "Can she help us out?"

"She won't pay for anything." Quinn shook her head, recalling bitterly how Mrs. Schuester had immediately shot down the suggestion without so much as batting an eyelash. "Since she'll be raising the child, she thinks we should handle all the pre-birth costs."

Finn folded his arms and rested his forehead on them.

"So now what happens?"

"Now you look at the jobs I found for you," Quinn answered impatiently. "I tried to make it as easy as I could, Finn. I know how stressed you've been, so I did the footwork. All you have to do is choose and apply."

Finn looked at the names of the businesses she had typed out for him and forced a smile onto his face.

"Okay. I'll look them over."

Quinn beamed with relief. Finn leaned sideways in his chair and kissed her cheek.

"Thank you," he said gratefully. "It's a good thing at least one of us knows what to do."

"I don't know," Quinn mumbled as she rubbed her thumb over his fingers. "Maybe I'm just better at improvising."

… … …

Santana shut her eyes and stretched out carefully along a bench. A folded towel was draped over her eyes while another was wrapped tightly around the skin that was still dripping from her turn in the locker room showers. Her arms and legs ached from practice, and all she really wanted to do was sleep, but the voice of her friend was currently keeping her very much awake.

"Quite honestly, I think they deserve it," Quinn was saying while she re-tied her shoelaces.

"Spare us the saintly judgments just this once, would you please?" Santana groaned. "Don't try to pretend even for a second that you wouldn't have taken that vitamin thing, too, if you weren't incubating. The choice was made for you by Mrs. Schuester, so you can't claim you took the high road on this one, sunshine."

"Even so," Quinn acknowledged through a clenched jaw. "Now that Mrs. Schuester has been let go for supplying those pills, and Coach Sylvester is co-director of the New Directions, we know everything will be by the book from here on out."

"Yeah, with a particular focus on dismantling the club altogether," Santana snapped as she held onto her towel with one hand and sat upright. "The only thing this means now is that the war is coming to a head. Any sign of a no man's land is gone now that Sue and Schue will be going toe to toe. The best we can hope is not to get caught in the crossfire."

"At least she hasn't done anything unorthodox yet," Quinn offered with a shrug.

"I have a bad feeling," Brittany murmured while she brushed her hair.

The other two girls turned to her.

"Mr. Schuester was asking for new song ideas but he didn't really listen to any," Brittany elaborated.

"Yeah, that was complete crap," Santana acknowledged. "As if anything that Her Majesty, Queen of the Shire requests won't get precedence over whatever the rest of us ask to do. We're just extras, and Mr. Schue pretending otherwise isn't fooling anyone."

"Why does that make you worried, Brittany?" Quinn asked curiously.

"Well, it's just that, if we're not all working together –"

"Hello, ladies," Sue greeted from the doorway.

The three teens jumped and their eyes widened.

"Sorry to intrude but I had a suspicion you might have forgotten our scheduled meeting," she continued. "Judging from your lack of proper attire, I think it's clear I was right. I'll expect you in my office, uniforms and high ponies back in place, in ten minutes."

"We only just got to finally take them off," Santana grumbled once their coach was out of earshot.

"I think it's to remind us where our allegiance should lie," Quinn surmised.

Brittany zipped her top and frowned pensively.

"Or to remind us who's in control."

… … …

Quinn's phone rang before she'd even had time to turn the deadbolt on the door. Her nerves were already rattled as she prepared to sneak through the front foyer and up the stairs; the sudden music nearly caused her to shout aloud.

"Hi, Frannie," she panted with relief after checking the caller I.D. and answering. "Give me just a sec, okay? I have to get up to my room."

Her sister waited patiently until Quinn was safely out of range to be overheard by anyone else in the house.

"So how was the ultrasound?"

"Good, good," Quinn murmured. "The baby's developing at the rate it's supposed to and it's healthy."

"Did Finn take you there? I'm so sorry I couldn't get off work to drive you guys myself," Frannie apologized.

"It's okay. Mr. Schuester took us to the appointment and dropped us off after it was finished."

"Who is that?"

"Mr. Schue? He's the Spanish teacher at my school. He's also the director of the Glee Club," Quinn explained.

"How did he get pulled into all of this?" Frannie marveled.

"I think Finn asked him. They talk a lot. It helps Finn cope. And… his wife is also the one who offered to take my baby."

There was a whoosh of air from the other end of the line as Frannie puffed up her cheeks and exhaled.

"I don't know about this, Goose. It sounds like you've got yourself neck-deep in about five hundred layers of 'it's complicated,' but so long as you can keep track of it all…"

"I'm fine," Quinn insisted. "After all, it wouldn't be high school without lots of drama."

"Don't I know it," Frannie seconded. "Although I think you've got even me beat in that department."

"Hey, Frannie?" Quinn hazarded.

"Yeah?"

"Did… Did you and Thomas ever want children?"

"Hell no," Frannie blurted out before clearing her throat. "I mean, that probably wouldn't work out for us. I just don't see Thomas as the fathering type."

"How come?"

"Much as that man's worrying manages to stress me out on a daily basis, it'd annoy the crap out of our kids. They'd never have any kind of fun, ever."

"But you and he get along all right, don't you?" Quinn pressed on as her brow began to furrow.

"We have an understanding," Frannie replied flippantly. "It'd help if he didn't idolize Dad so much, but what can you do? That's what happens when you marry the son of your father's business partner. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Quinn lied. "Just being nosy, I guess."

"Sweetie, were you going to ask if we could take the baby?"

"I—I don't know. Yes. Maybe. I have no idea. I'm grasping at straws right now," Quinn confessed before burying her face in her hands.

They both fell silent for a few minutes.

"It's a girl."

"That makes it all more real, doesn't it? Knowing the gender," Frannie surmised.

"Yeah. It's scary."

"Very," Frannie agreed. "Just know that I'm going to do whatever I can to support you, okay? No matter what you choose to do."

"Thanks," Quinn replied. "Maybe you should have a bucket of water ready for when Dad sets me on fire once I tell him."

"I'll hide all the matches."

"Well, at least we've got a plan," Quinn joked through the tears rimming her eyelids.

"Yep," Frannie agreed softly. "Hang in there. No matter the outcome, it will all be over eventually. Nine months, and you've already survived the first few. You're strong. I know you can do this."

Quinn reached for Isaac the Lamb, who was leaning against her extra pillow, and squeezed him with her free arm.

"At least one of us thinks so."

… … …

"Why are you sad?"

Santana lifted her head to find that Brittany's little sister, Katy, was studying her intently.

"Hey there, shortstop," Santana greeted warmly. "I haven't gotten a hug from you yet."

Katy joined her on the armchair. She climbed onto the older girl's lap and wrapped both arms tightly around her middle.

"Did the teacher yell at your class?" Katy guessed. "I get sad when my teacher yells."

"No, sweetie, it's nothing like that," Santana replied while rubbing the child's back.

"Our club is getting broken up," Brittany explained from where she was resting on the couch.

"No more club?" Katy asked with a sympathetic pout.

"Well, it'll still exist but half of us are in one room and the other half has to work someplace else," Santana explained. "So we don't get to sing all together anymore."

"Why?"

"Our coach decided she wanted to work with some kids so they could get a turn," Brittany said. "Only she left some other kids behind because they don't have anything on the outside that makes them different."

"That doesn't sound nice," Katy remarked. "Are you and Santana in the same group?"

"No."

"Then that's not good at all," Brittany's little sister determined. "Nothing's any fun if you can't do it with your best friend."

Santana exchanged smiles with Brittany before returning her attention to the younger Pierce daughter.

"Do you have a best friend, Katy?"

"Uh huh," Katy confirmed enthusiastically. "His name is Wes."

"A boy!" Santana raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure he's just a friend?"

Katy wrinkled her nose.

"I don't like him like that. I don't want him to touch me and give me germs."

Santana laughed and nodded sagely.

"That's a good policy, squirt. Stay away from yucky boy germs. Life is complicated enough without 'em."

"Are you guys gonna quit the club since it's not fun anymore?" Katy asked.

"Nah, we've gotta stick with it," Santana sighed.

"We have people depending on us," Brittany seconded.

Katy nodded thoughtfully.

"My soccer coach tells us not to give up, either," she said. "'Cause, 'if you miss a goal six times, maybe the seventh one will go through.'"

"You're getting to be a really smart cookie, Katy, you know that?" Santana grinned broadly. "Just like your sister."

She caught Brittany's eye and winked. Brittany smiled gratefully before crossing the room to scoop Katy up in her arms.

"It's because we hang out all the time, right kiddo?"

"Yeah," Katy agreed. She held out her index finger and drew the first letter of their surname on Brittany's chest and then on her own. They both giggled and Brittany tapped Katy's nose.

"Two Ps in a pod."

… … …

The student traffic in the hallway was so thick when the final class of the day dismissed that it was almost impossible for Quinn to reach Finn's side. He saw her coming and shut his eyes tightly almost as if he were hoping, when he opened them again, she wouldn't really be there. Quinn did her best to ignore this and instead cut straight to the matter she most wanted to discuss.

"Did you look at the options?" she asked. "What have you decided?"

"I don't really know yet," Finn responded evasively. "Maybe I need more time to think."

"We don't have more time, Finn!" Quinn cried. "You need to choose."

"None of those jobs really sound like me, you know?" Finn continued. "I don't want to be stuck doing something that's not interesting."

"You can start whatever career you want, one day," Quinn said. "But right now I need you to bite the bullet and find some way to help pay for the bills. It's only temporary. You can quit once the baby is born."

Finn returned his books to his locker and his shoulders stiffened.

"I'll figure something out, okay? Just don't nag so much. I've got enough pressure as it is," he complained.

The muscles in Quinn's face twitched with fury. Finn steeled himself for the explosion, but it didn't come. Instead, Quinn whirled around and stormed off without another word, parting the crowd with only the blaze in her eyes.

Finn blinked in surprise before shrugging and reaching for his backpack.

"That was easier than I expected."

… … …

"Hey, how come you're not at school today?" Brittany asked Santana over the phone once she had settled at a table with her lunch tray.

The noise level in the cafeteria was steadily rising so that she had to plug her other ear against the din, but she really wanted to hear her friend's voice.

"I've got some kind of twenty-four hour bug," Santana explained miserably. "I haven't even been around anybody who's sick! It must've been through a carrier. I kissed Matt yesterday afternoon and then the symptoms showed up last night. He's got some apologizing to do for his contaminated lil' self."

"Maybe it wasn't Matt, though," Brittany countered. "It's probably from the moonshining."

"Moonlighting," Santana corrected mildly. "Yeah, probably. He's been screwing everyone over lately, in one way or another."

"I'll come visit you when classes are over," Brittany assured her. "Get lots of rest, okay?"

"Will do, Doc," Santana answered dutifully.

"Okay. See you after school,"Brittany responded hastily as she saw Quinn approaching the table. Her thumb ended the conversation with a quick push of a button.

"How's Santana?" Quinn asked without having to confirm the recipient of Brittany's call.

"Pretty sick, but awake enough to answer," Brittany shrugged. She twiddled her straw between her thumb and forefinger.

"Hey, I'm sorry about snapping at you earlier," Quinn apologized. "In Spanish class, I mean. I should've helped explain the work to you but I was just so mad at Finn. I didn't mean what I said."

"It's okay," Brittany said kindly. "I know it was an open book test and all, but it's hard to find everything in just one class period. I kinda panicked, especially without Santana there to help me. She always checks to make sure I'm getting it right."

"I know." Quinn nodded. "And, now that Mr. Schuester is refusing to give out free passes to the Cheerios, we've got to be extra careful about our grades since you, Santana, and I are the only ones left."

"What was Finn saying to you?" Brittany inquired. "During the test. He said something about rain?"

Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Drizzle. He wants to name the baby Drizzle."

"But you're not keeping the baby. Won't the mom and dad who adopt her give her a name?"

"Exactly!" Quinn concurred. "That's what I've been trying to explain to him, but he can't get it through his head. We can't keep her."

A tear slid down Quinn's face, but Brittany's fingers brushed the drop away.

"I'm sorry," Quinn mumbled thickly. "It's the hormones. I'm not sad, really. I cried over a dropped French fry yesterday."

"But a baby's not a French fry," Brittany said. "It's okay if it makes you sad to lose her."

"I have no choice, Britt," Quinn whimpered and looked down at her palms. Brittany held Quinn's hands in her own and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

"There's always a choice."

… … …

Just as she had predicted, Santana's illness only lasted a day and she was back at McKinley the following morning. All the same, Brittany kept a close watch on her during their classes and checked her forehead periodically with the back of her hand. Santana laughed but didn't seem to mind the extra attention.

"I'm fine now, really," Santana insisted when Brittany returned from the lunch line with a bowl of soup. "My own mother didn't bring me this. You're going to spoil me."

"Drink it," was the only gentle but insistent response she received.

By the time they reached the end of the school day, Brittany was relatively convinced of her best friend's return to health. However, she still guided Santana's head to rest on her shoulder while they waited for the rest of the Glee Club to walk into the choir room.

The other members wandered in by twos and threes until everyone had settled into a seat - everyone except for Finn, who had chosen the stool behind the drum kit. Artie was the last to arrive and, as he came through the door, he could be heard humming softly to himself. Puck's expression lit up as he recognized the tune and began to strum on his guitar. Finn followed suit by drumming out a steady beat. Everyone else caught on then and joined in the fun.

"_Ay! Oh! Ay! Oh! Where they at? Where they at? Where they at? Where they at?_" they chorused merrily and rose to their feet.

The two girls grinned at one another and danced to the familiar beginning of Ride Wit Me. Santana's spirits had lifted so much that no one would have guessed she was bedridden the previous afternoon. She even draped her arms around Matt's shoulders and swayed with him, and Brittany was enjoying herself so much that she scarcely felt the sting.

Unfortunately, with the majority of the students leaving to participate in Sue's Kids, the portion of the club Coach Sylvester had siphoned off for her own purposes, and the remaining few staying behind with Mr. Schuester, their time spent in each other's company was far too short. Soon everyone was hugging and saying their temporary goodbyes before going their separate ways.

Santana went to the back row and walked toward Brittany's outstretched arms.

"I love you," she said without considering the import of what had passed her lips.

Brittany's arms wrapped safely around her and, for a moment, Santana held her breath. But no remark was made. She nearly dared to hope that her friend hadn't heard the statement at all until she felt the way Brittany's cheek pressed tenderly against her face for just a fraction of a second.

Santana left the choir room with her arms wrapped around her stomach. Even though she was fairly certain they had both silently agreed to pretend it never happened, the three words echoed around inside her head and made her face burn with shame. Then she recalled the way Brittany had taken the whole thing in stride and simply hugged her that much harder, and Santana's insides began to twist with unmistakable guilt.

… … …

The stakes had risen more than anyone realized.

Sue's efforts to demolish the Glee Club were officially becoming both desperate and painfully transparent. Completely baffled as to the reason, Brittany found herself being called into the coach's office with Puck, of all people.

When the two took their seats, Ms. Sylvester started in on some deranged tirade about how they were minorities just like her Sue's Kids and deserved better treatment. She pointed out the fact that Puck was Jewish – which, to Brittany's mind, meant Rachel ought to be there, too, since she practiced that faith as well – and Brittany was of Dutch descent. Brittany was only dimly aware of that fact herself and couldn't understand how it had anything to do with discrimination, but she decided not to voice that qualm out loud.

All in all, Sue's explanation came out more ill-informed and vaguely insulting than the supposed well-meaning offer she meant for it to be.

Still, switching sides would mean a chance to spend more time with Santana again. So, against her better judgment, Brittany agreed.

"What am I going to do now?" Quinn moaned when Brittany told her the news after school. "Now it's just going to be me and Finn with Rachel mentally ravaging him right in front of me like I'm not even there."

"I'm sorry," Brittany apologized. "Did you try talking to Finn about it?"

"Not lately," Quinn said. "He just blocks out everything I say. I decided to try a different approach and went straight to the source."

"You talked to Rachel? How did that go?" Brittany asked.

"Not well," Quinn admitted. "I meant to start out with a thank you for her stopping Jacob Ben Israel from running the pregnancy story, but the minute I saw her I totally forgot. I just got _so_ _angry_ and I wound up slamming her locker and kind of chasing her up the stairs while we argued."

"What did Rachel do?"

"She didn't back down. I mean, she did apologize, but I don't see that stopping her. Then she said she knew about me being the mole for Coach Sylvester and was trying to make it sound like I should be loyal to the Glee Club instead of the Cheerios."

Quinn curled her lip derisively as she and Brittany rounded the corner into the locker rooms.

"As if I owe that club anything. This squad is where my real friends are. She just wants to make sure there are enough people for them to compete at sectionals."

Brittany nodded absently but her eyes were elsewhere. The minute they had entered the room, several clusters of girls stopped talking abruptly. What little conversation still carried on was done in whispers. The cheerleaders' gazes were following Quinn, who was too busy grumbling to herself to take much notice.

Though she loathed having to admit it, Brittany had to acknowledge that, just this once, Rachel might very well have a point.

… … …

"Everything is ruined," Quinn said to the empty air.

Coach Sylvester knew she was pregnant.

She announced it in front of the entire Glee Club the day she finally stepped down as co-director and allowed them to reunite as one group. This only made the moment that much worse when all eleven pairs of eyes were present to bore into her skin and await her reaction to being exposed.

All the oxygen left Quinn's lungs. She couldn't respond, couldn't move. Everything she had worked so hard to build for herself, her new life at a new school, was crumbling apart before her very eyes.

The hovering dread of being officially kicked off the squad swooped low over her head like a circling vulture. Quinn was unable to think or feel much of anything else for the rest of the week.

In a surprise gesture of kindness, the Glee Club organized a number for Friday to show their support. As everyone moved in unison and sang their rendition of Keep Holding On, Quinn found that the one person who seemed to always keep her in sight was Rachel.

For the first time since the summer when they met, Quinn actually felt like the other girl was on her side. Much as she wanted to spurn the sincerity behind Rachel's gaze, she couldn't quite look away. She was grateful when they all finally faced outward for the end of the song and she was no longer required to make eye contact.

The number concluded and the group gradually dispersed. Quinn felt a few of them nudge her or brush her shoulder as they passed, but she was too numb to give them even the weakest of smiles.

"It was my idea, you know," a small voice said, shaking her from her thoughts.

Rachel stepped forward, the last remaining member of the club still on the stage. The auditorium had emptied while Quinn was lost in her worries.

"What was?"

"The performance," Rachel answered. "You looked so small and scared yesterday. I wanted you to know that there are people who still care."

"You mean like you?"

"Yes," Rachel replied. "Rival or not, I don't want to see you suffer like this. I know how much being a cheerleader meant to you."

"How much it_ means_ to me," Quinn corrected stubbornly. "I'm not off the Cheerios yet."

"Right," Rachel acknowledged. "Even so, you seemed like maybe you could use a friend."

"I have friends."

"So you've said." Rachel nodded. "Regardless, a surplus of friends never hurt anybody, and… I'm here, if you need me."

She shrugged lamely, for once unable to think of anything else to say.

Quinn ran her tongue over her teeth and prepared to issue the most scathing remark she could summon to mind, but she was cut off as Rachel rushed forward and enveloped her in an extremely awkward hug.

"I'll see you on Monday, Quinn," she murmured.

Then she darted off into the darkness and left Quinn standing dumbfounded and bewildered center stage.

… … …

"The world has gone completely batshit," Santana concluded succinctly as she pulled into the driveway of the Pierces' residence.

"Everybody knowing about Quinn's baby has changed everything," Brittany murmured sadly. "I still can't believe Karofsky slushied Finn in the face."

"That was bound to happen eventually," Santana shrugged. "I wouldn't be surprised if they get the baby mama herself, before this is all over."

"Maybe she should get a rain jacket, too," Brittany said thoughtfully. "That's how the other Glee kids protect themselves."

"She won't do it, though." Santana exited the car and circled around to open Brittany's door. "You know she won't. That'd be like admitting she's one of them, which is the last thing in the world she wants right now."

"Yeah, I guess," Brittany sighed. "She really hates them, huh?"

"She's definitely not the club's biggest fan," Santana replied. "Neither am I. You're the one who's good at talking to them."

"They're just people," Brittany shrugged. "The same as anyone else."

"You're too good for this world, Britt." Santana smiled and hugged her with one arm.

Brittany ducked her head and smiled.

"We're the only car in the driveway," Santana noted before they entered the house. "Where did everybody else disappear to today?"

"Dad's got work and Mom had to run errands before she picks Katy up from school," Brittany explained.

They ascended the stairs to Brittany's room and deposited their backpacks by the door.

"It's just us, then. Party time," Santana joked with a wink.

Brittany giggled.

"Does it still count as a party if there are only two people?"

"When those two people are you and me? Hell yes!" Santana responded with a nod.

"Okay, then." Brittany grinned.

She sprawled on her bed and traced a fingertip over the crisscrossing flowers on her comforter. Santana joined her and studied her face for a moment.

"Britt, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Am I losing my touch?" Santana fretted.

Brittany tilted her head to the side.

"Huh?"

"It's just Matt," Santana sulked. "I've been sending him all these vibes and hanging all over him and he still hasn't… parked the car in the garage."

"Oh," Brittany said quietly. "Is that why you kind of touched your crotch in front of him during Glee today?"

"Yeah, it was. I mean, fuck's sake, the only way I could be more obvious is if I just straddled him at random," Santana complained. "What's the hold up?"

"Maybe he just wants to take things slow," Brittany shrugged.

"What straight boy says no to sex when it's offered?" Santana ranted.

"One who doesn't see you as just a body?" Brittany suggested.

Santana blinked and pondered this for a moment. She sighed and rolled over onto her back.

"Maybe you're right. I guess I've just gotten so used to Puck being all handsy that I don't know how to react when a guy treats me like a person."

She laughed a little but, when Santana turned to Brittany, she saw that her face was serious.

"Maybe so," Brittany seconded sadly.

"I should've let you talk me out of that one from the start, huh?" Santana said as she met the girl's gaze. "After all, you're the one who has my best interests at heart."

Brittany rested their foreheads together and closed her eyes.

"Yeah, I do."

Santana' pulse quickened. She pressed her lips together and tried to calm it, but the drumming only pounded harder behind her ribcage until she thought she might explode. Her mouth grazed the underside of Brittany's chin.

"Sorry I'm not a good listener," she apologized.

"It's okay," Brittany replied. "Maybe it's my fault for not making sure I had your attention."

She kissed her softly but insistently and Santana had to admit that Brittany had her attention now.

"So I'm not getting fat or something then?" Santana asked, trying desperately to circle back to their earlier topic. "It's just Matt being a gentleman?"

Brittany met her gaze and leaned in until they touched noses.

"It's definitely not you."

"Oh, well, that's good," Santana brightened.

Then Brittany's lips were on hers again and all the words in Santana's mind disappeared completely.

… … …

_So much for sunglasses restoring our social status…_

Ms. Pillsbury's idea of how to be seen as cool again could not have backfired more if they tried. Quinn could feel the drink stinging the corners of her eyes, soaking into her hair, and clinging heavily to her uniform. Also, there was an unfortunate bit of slush that had made it past her collar and was currently oozing its way down her back, no doubt leaving a faint purple trail in its wake. She fought down the urge to cry as the jocks walked smugly in the opposite direction. She and Finn were left standing in the middle of the hall to face the shame.

Her boyfriend guided her firmly by the shoulder, eager to get clean before their next class. Quinn followed him numbly. She scarcely noticed the change in her surroundings as her mind tried its hardest to riddle out how they had fallen so low so quickly. It was all because of that stupid Glee Club.

Then- _speak of the devil_- they rounded the corner and nearly walked directly into Rachel.

"Finn!" the girl exclaimed. "Quinn! What happened?"

"The team surrounded us and decided to teach us a lesson," Finn summarized bitterly.

His eyes went from the labeled door on the left to his girlfriend standing on the right.

"Hey, Rachel? I hate to ask this but can you help Quinn get the slushy off herself? I'd do it, but I think the other people in there would be pretty ticked if I came into the girls' bathroom. Plus, I've gotta try to get this outta my shirt before Lit. Class."

"Of course," Rachel agreed readily. "Here, come on. We might be able to get rid of most of it if we hurry."

She reached out and guided Quinn by the arm. Finn's girlfriend shot him a look for leaving her so readily in the clutches of the enemy, but he was already tugging on the handle to the opposite door and didn't notice.

"I'll meet you back out here," he called and then disappeared into the boys' restroom.

The two teens entered the girls' restroom and walked across the white linoleum toward the line of sinks opposite the stalls. In her typical fashion, Rachel chatted almost nonstop as she moved.

"Now I can tell already that we won't save that uniform, but I'll go as quickly as I can with the rest. We probably can't get you to class for roll call; still, you should be there in time to get the assignment for the day."

Quinn gave a single nod to indicate that she was listening but didn't venture anything further. If she didn't watch her words, she'd end up saying something bad enough to get her kicked out of Glee Club, and she could _not_ afford to leave Finn alone again with the creature standing before her. Her lip curled slightly at the thought alone.

Then she noticed that Rachel was looking at her expectantly.

"What?" she demanded with annoyance.

"You're going to want to untie your high pony," Rachel pointed out timidly. "We have to try to get the drink out of your hair."

Quinn begrudgingly acquiesced while Rachel fetched a chair from the nook near the entrance. Rachel dragged the seat up to the nearest sink and gestured for Quinn to settle onto it. Quinn glared icily, but she did as she was instructed. Then Rachel carefully scooped up her unbound tresses and lowered them into the basin.

"Just lean your head back," she murmured quietly.

Her hand twisted the nob on the nearest side of the sink and began running warm water through the already dampened locks. Quinn kept her lips pursed the entire time and stared at a speck on the ceiling.

"I'm really sorry you had to go through this, Quinn," Rachel told her while she washed. "We've needed to get more members for Glee Club so badly and this ice bath initiation isn't conducive to our efforts. Please don't let it dissuade you from staying. It will get better, I promise. The first attack is always the worst."

"Well, it may have been the first but it sure as hell had better also be the last. I'm not going through this again."

Rachel nodded. Her hands never stilled while they conversed and her fingers were surprisingly gentle as the nails scraped along Quinn's scalp and worked out the last traces of grape juice.

"Hopefully you won't have to," she agreed. "But, if they do come after you again, one of us will always be here to help. That's what friends are for."

"How many times will it take to drive this home? We are _not _friends."

"That's a matter of opinion," Rachel countered without missing a beat. "But at the times that count you'll realize who is still around when you really need them. Like I told you last week, I know the club isn't exactly your favorite extracurricular activity but it's a good place to be. You'll see."

"Why are you even doing this for me?" Quinn asked.

"Because Finn asked me to," she responded simply. "And because no one deserves having to face their problems alone. Even if they are a mole."

Quinn thought of all the people that made sure Rachel knew she was an outsider, herself included, and felt a rush of remorse. Was that isolation the sort of thing she could expect now that she was pregnant and part of the most unpopular group at school? Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach.

"Okay," Rachel said as she turned off the tap and gathered Quinn's wet hair in her hand. "Follow me to the dryer."

They walked toward the small machine attached to the wall. Quinn doubled over and began working out the moisture while Rachel pushed the button each time that the warm air shut off automatically. When she was finished, Quinn went to the mirror to tidy her appearance. A moment later, Rachel appeared beside her with a dampened paper towel in her hand.

"For your face," she explained and offered it to the other girl.

Quinn examined her reflection. Sure enough, some of the syrup had left faint stains along her cheeks. Reluctantly, she accepted the proffered object with a curt nod. After she was clean, she restored her high pony and smoothed the strays.

"There," Quinn concluded when she was satisfied with what she saw. "Now all I need to do is stop by the locker room to switch uniforms and I can finally go to class."

Quinn walked toward the exit but paused before stepping back into the hall.

"Hey, Rachel?" she said softly as she turned around in the doorway.

"Yes?"

"Thank you for helping me," Quinn uttered in a rush. _Quickly, like removing a Band-Aid._ "I realize now that I've made you late, too, to wherever it was you were going. Also, it was just a really nice thing for you to do. I know I wouldn't have, given the circumstances. So… thanks."

Then she darted out the door to search for Finn.

"No problem," Rachel replied to the empty room. "Any time."

… … …

The Changs' house had changed a bit since the last time she'd been inside it. Brittany noted the alterations in décor and the different placement of furniture with mild curiosity.

"Have a seat," Mike offered with a small smile. "I almost forgot how long it's been since I had you over."

"Yeah, it's been a while," Brittany acknowledged somewhat self-consciously.

Mike handed her a soft drink before popping the top on one of his own.

"To Glee Club," he toasted and tapped his can against hers.

"I really wish your coach hadn't made you choose between that and football," Brittany remarked. "You didn't pick Glee just because of me did you?"

"Partly that," Mike shrugged. "Also, I love getting to dance at school. It's not something people make fun of there. In Glee, my dancing is cool."

Brittany nodded and smiled.

"Santana seemed pretty happy to see Matt with me when we walked in," Mike commented. "I thought I heard her say 'I love you.' Are they that serious?"

Brittany traced the rim of the can and didn't look up at him.

"I don't think so. She says that to a lot of people when she's happy."

"She knows Matt's a sensitive guy, right?" Mike asked.

"Yeah, she said something like that."

"It's just that he barely talks around most people. Getting noticed by a girl like Santana is a big deal for him," Mike elaborated. "I don't want to see him get hurt if she's just messing him around."

"Neither do I," Brittany agreed. "He seems really nice. I mean, he's your friend so obviously he's pretty great."

She nudged Mike with her elbow and they both grinned.

"So you think she's gonna stick with him then?" Mike queried hopefully. "I mean, she wouldn't say stuff like that to him if he didn't mean anything to her, right?"

Brittany gulped down the remainder of her drink before she gave her reply.

"I really hope not."

… … …

The automatic door slid squeakily out of Santana's way and she entered the brightly lit corner grocery store. She shivered slightly as she adjusted to the air conditioning. One hand zipped her jacket over the tank top she was wearing while the other rose to check her watch.

_Six-thirty_.

That meant she still had thirty minutes before her show started. There was no time for indecision; she'd just have to grab a T.V. dinner and be on her way. Her feet led her to the correct aisle without any conscious effort - countless nights of preparing her own meals made the steps automatic – and she immediately began scanning the shelves behind the glass.

She was just reaching for a box of parmesan chicken when a familiar voice caught her attention. Familiar, but not welcome.

Rachel Berry.

Santana froze instinctively as if her classmate were a rabbit that would no longer be able to detect her presence if she remained completely still. Fortunately, Rachel was far too busy calling over her shoulder to someone in the adjacent aisle, so she didn't notice the motionless Cheerio. Santana nearly breathed a sigh of relief until Rachel's accompaniment rounded the corner and came into view. Then her insides boiled with rage.

Puck walked toward Rachel with an easy half-smile and linked their arms as they turned the cart in Santana's direction. Eager to avoid being spotted, Santana closed the door in front of her and bolted from sight while they still weren't looking. She rushed toward the refrigerated drinks near the check-outs and snatched a water bottle. Then, as quickly as she could without drawing attention to her haste, she placed the items on the nearest conveyor belt.

It wasn't until after she had done so that Santana realized the woman in front of her appeared to have loaded up her cart with half the products in the store. This was going to take forever. Santana very nearly picked up her supper to pay for it at a different register when she saw Puck and Rachel making their way toward her intended destination.

_So much for that idea…_

With a heavy sigh, Santana remained where she was and waited her turn with thinly veiled impatience. Thankfully, her peers didn't suffer a similar misfortune; they were the first to reach their check-out. This meant they were finished well before her and already walking hand-in-hand out of the store by the time Santana actually got to the register.

Santana allowed herself to finally relax, paid for her dinner, and departed. As it happened, however, that calm was to be terribly short-lived. When she walked out to the parking lot, she found the now not-so-happy couple having difficulty getting Puck's car to start. The vehicle kept emitting a sputtering rumble and she saw the boy angrily smack his hand against the dashboard.

Unfortunately, it was at that moment that Rachel looked through the windshield and spotted Santana. She excitedly shook Puck's arm and gestured in the other girl's direction. He followed her pointing finger and saw his ex-girlfriend curling her lip at the realization that she was stuck. There was no chance for her to get away now. Puck unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door to exit.

"Hey, Santana," he called out unnecessarily. "Do you think you can give us a jump?"

She checked her watch and stomped her foot.

"All right," Santana agreed with annoyance. "Just make it quick."

Puck went to the back of his car and unlocked the trunk. He returned after a few minutes of rummaging through the miscellaneous clutter but both his hands were still empty.

"I must have left the cables at home," he said.

"Well, don't look at me," Santana scoffed. "I can tell you for a fact that I don't have any."

They both heard a muffled knock and turned toward the sound. Rachel mouthed exaggeratedly to Puck once she had his attention.

'_What's going on?'_

The boy held his index finger aloft to stall for more time and turned back to Santana. She had a feeling she knew what he was going to ask next. Her arms crossed over her chest as she waited for him to voice the question.

"Can you give us a ride?"

"Hell no."

"Oh, come on, Santana," he pleaded. "Don't be like this. I'll find a way to make it up to you."

Santana's eyes flicked over him derisively.

"You don't have anything I want."

"Look, the sooner you stop arguing with me and get us to my house, the sooner you can go back to blowing me off for being poor and pretending that she doesn't exist, okay? Just… please?"

She frowned at his shallow assessment of her. Half to shut him up and half to prove a point about the quality of her character, Santana gave a reluctant nod.

"Fine," she snarled. "But one of you is going to have to sit next to me because my duffel is still on the back seat."

Puck clapped his hands together once and then held them out toward her gratefully.

"Thank you!" he said before turning to relay the news to Rachel.

Santana left them to unload and transfer their groceries while she climbed into the driver's side of her car. A few moments later, she heard the click of the other door opening and lifted her head. As she did so, she saw that Puck had opened it for Rachel and was allowing her to slide carefully into the vacant seat. Santana leaned around Rachel to shoot Puck a poisonous glare. He shrugged as if to say, 'It was the gentlemanly thing to do." Then he circled the car to climb into the back.

"Thanks so much for doing this, Santana," Rachel said as she clicked her buckle into place. "We really appreciate it."

Their driver gave a noncommittal grunt as she pulled out of the parking lot. She activated the turn signal and did her best to ignore the perfume wafting toward her from the unwanted passenger.

"Noah and I are having Musical Night this evening," Rachel explained eagerly. "This will be his first time watching The Phantom of the Opera."

When Santana gave no response, Rachel sang a few lines to jog her memory.

"You know," she prompted. "_In sleep he sang to me. In dreams he came_-"

"Yeah that's not ringing any bells," Santana cut her off shortly.

Santana flicked her dark eyes up to the rearview mirror and caught Puck's gaze. She lifted her eyebrows and allowed mockery to flicker in her pupils. No audible insults were required; he knew her thoughts well enough to register the slight. Before she could emasculate him further, Puck turned his head away and looked out the window beside him.

Rachel plunged her hand into the plastic bag on her lap and pulled out a water bottle of her own.

"I'm gonna take a quick sip of this," she informed their temporary chauffeur while she unscrewed the cap. "Do you mind?"

"Be my guest," Santana grumbled since the lid was already off anyway.

She waited until the other girl had the bottle tilted and pressed to her lips. Then she brought the car to an abrupt halt. The liquid dribbled along Rachel's chin and down her shirt.

"Stoplight," Santana said by way of explanation.

She pointed through the windshield at the yellow light which promptly switched to red as if by command. Her passenger nodded and tried to discretely wring out her dampened top. Santana watched for a moment before she unzipped her jacket and handed it over.

"Here," she offered. "You can use this to wipe yourself off if you need to. I have to wash it anyway, so it doesn't really matter if it gets wet."

Rachel accepted the proffered item with murmured thanks, only to look up and realize that Santana was now wearing just a form-fitting black tank top with a plunging neckline. Rachel's eyes bulged and then flicked back over her shoulder to her boyfriend, fearful that his attention might become… diverted.

As Santana suppressed a wicked smile at the fear she had sparked - not to mention instilling her adversary with a sudden sense of inadequacy - she locked eyes with Puck in the mirror for the second time. Just as she had not needed to voice her criticisms moments before, nor did her ex-boyfriend have to speak his demand for her to read it in the thin line of his mouth and his sternly lowered eyebrows.

_Be nice. _

Santana complied and behaved herself for the duration of the drive, aside from the occasional eye roll that she hid behind lowered lids. At last, the Puckerman residence came into view and she pulled into the driveway.

"Well, thanks again," Rachel chirped as she unfastened her seatbelt and placed the jacket on the console. "If you need us to pay for gas, I'll be glad to pass you the money in the morning at school."

"It's okay," Santana told her in a strained voice. She was not keen to be seen with the other girl in public any more than was absolutely necessary. "Don't worry about it."

"That is so nice of you!" Rachel enthused.

She gave the other girl a brief, grateful hug. Santana's face looked as if she smelled something foul. Behind her, she heard Puck climb out of his seat and close the door behind him.

"We'll see you tomorrow!" Rachel exclaimed. She exited and made her way toward the Puckermans' front door.

Santana rolled down her window and leaned out to call after them.

"You kids have fun now!" she hollered.

The boy turned back to shoot her a displeased look.

"Hey, Puck!" Santana barked. "Come here for just a sec."

He pulled a face but obeyed her command. Santana checked behind him to make sure that Rachel had already gone inside before she leaned closer and murmured conspiratorially.

"All right, what's the deal?" she asked. "I know desperate times call for desperate measures, but could you not at least pick someone that wouldn't drown in the shallow end of a swimming pool?"

"She's not as bad as you think," he protested. "Besides, what do you care anymore, anyway?"

"I don't," Santana snapped. "In fact, I wish you the best of luck. May you both live musically ever after."

Puck scowled.

"Just tell me one thing," Santana requested. "Are you sure she's really who you want?"

"I'm not taking you back," he growled defiantly.

Santana snorted.

"Don't flatter yourself," she laughed. "I was talking about someone with whom you had a decidedly shorter relationship - or, rather, no relationship at all."

The first flicker of comprehension crossed Puck's features.

"C'mon, you can't honestly tell me you didn't go for the polar opposite just to try to get her out of your head," Santana protested with a click of her tongue. "Trying to replace the Prom Princess with the Glee Club Gremlin is just pitiful. You'd have been better off if you _had_ come crawling back to me."

Puck's expression darkened as it became clear she had been referring to Quinn. His resentment of her keen observation showed clearly in the tension of his hunched shoulders.

"Well, too late for that now," Santana quipped. "You've made your bed and now you have to not get laid in it. Enjoy your movie."

She rolled her window back up and left him standing alone in the driveway. If he allowed her words to sink in, Santana thought, maybe he'd take a second look at this ridiculous new relationship and reconsider. Her lips turned up in a half smile as she made her way home.

_I give it a week._

… … …

Sectionals was looming closer with every passing week and, as it neared, the question of transportation for the club arose. Standard buses were available for their use but none that were handicapable for Artie and his wheelchair. Since the type of bus they needed cost around six hundred dollars, Mr. Schuester decided they would raise the necessary funds with a bake sale.

His idea was met with a markedly unenthusiastic response from the members of the Glee Club, but he wouldn't hear any arguments.

Brittany, for her part, offered to help advertise the event since she always managed to botch recipes. She and Tina asked the art teacher for supplies and put together several posters and a teal banner to hang over the table.

"I s-still don't k-know about this," Tina commented while she glued a large, hand-drawn cupcake to one side of the banner. "Are people even that into cupcakes?"

Brittany shrugged. Most of her attention was currently zeroed in on the dollar sign she was drawing with a green marker. Her tongue curled around her teeth as she worked to keep both curves of the symbol clean and even.

"My friend Becky sounded excited when I told her," Brittany answered once the sign was finished and she could focus on the conversation. "Maybe other people will be, too."

"W-wait, Becky Jackson? From math class?" Tina clarified.

"Yeah, that's her," Brittany confirmed brightly.

"H-how do you even talk to her? Isn't she in Special Ed?"

"I think so," Brittany nodded. "But it's not hard to talk to her. She's nice to me."

Tina studied her for a moment before she began drawing the next cupcake, her expression dubious.

"Is your friend Quinn any good at baking?" Tina asked, deciding to simply change the subject.

"Oh yeah," Brittany nodded enthusiastically. "She made a bunch of different cookies for me and Santana last Christmas."

"T-that's good," Tina said gratefully. "I d-don't want Artie's fundraiser to be a bust."

"I think it'll be all right," Brittany told her optimistically. "Especially with our kick-butt posters."

Tina took in her own lopsided dollar signs and the generically drawn cupcakes. She giggled.

"Yeah. These will be s-sure to bring in the big spenders. N-now if we just didn't have to s-sell them sitting in wheelchairs…"

That had been another stipulation of Mr. Schuester's for the week. In order to give them an understanding of what Artie had to go through, they too would have to move about the school in wheelchairs for three hours every school day. Brittany smiled a little as she remembered how loudly and mournfully Santana had complained.

"Maybe it'll make people notice the table more and actually buy something?" Brittany suggested tentatively.

"Or avoid us like we have a d-disease," Tina countered gloomily.

They put the finishing touches on their banner and then stood back to admire their work.

"Well, I think it's ready," Brittany determined brightly. "Ready to go hang them up?"

She and Tina climbed into their wheelchairs and carefully transported the art out of the choir room and into the hall, where they hung posters on corners of the most heavily trafficked hallways. Last was the banner to be put up in the cafeteria itself. This was a little tricky to reach, as it had to be fixed to the ceiling.

"I d-don't think I'm tall enough," Tina said. "Are you?"

Brittany experimentally stood on tiptoe and then jumped a few times in the air.

"Not quite."

They looked around for something to give them a boost.

"They've already put up the tables for the night," Brittany noticed. "The chairs, too. I guess we'll have to—"

"Chairs," Tina repeated. "What about these?"

She gestured to their wheelchairs.

"Maybe if one of us held it in place for the other one, so it wouldn't move at all," Brittany conceded. "It might work."

Brittany stepped aside and offered her chair as the booster. Tina climbed onto it and carefully began fixing one end of the banner to its place on the ceiling.

"Okay," she called down when that was done. "Now the other side."

She held her arms out to balance herself as Brittany guided the chair in a straight line until the banner was stretched taut.

"Almost th-there…" Tina strained to make the corner reach and stay stuck to the wall, but it proved more difficult than she anticipated. Without looking down, she lifted one foot and rested it on thin fabric of the back support. The cloth ripped audibly and fell from the rented chair.

"Oh, crap."

They both stared at the damage with wide eyes.

"N-now what do we do?" Tina panicked.

"I don't know," Brittany murmured, still shocked at the unexpectedly shoddy quality of the seat's design.

"Hide it," Tina said suddenly. "M-Mr. Schue would have a fit if he found out! We'll p-put it in the supply closet."

Brittany had barely stepped out of the other girl's way before Tina sent the chair whizzing through the empty cafeteria, guided it across the adjacent hall, and into the closet that was mercifully unlocked.

"There," Tina stated simply as she dusted off her hands. She pointed and leveled her gaze on Brittany. "And if anybody asks, it got lost."

… … …

Puck crammed the last of his textbooks back into his locker at the end of the day and shut the door tightly, taking only his bag and varsity jacket home with him.

As he turned toward the exit and the football field beyond, he nearly ran headlong into Santana. She was balancing a red cupcake in the palm of each hand and a faint trace of icing lined her upper lip.

"Santana!" he exclaimed irritably. "What the hell? Those cupcakes are for the bake sale. You're eating more than the customers!"

"Cool your jets; I paid for them," Santana snapped. "Besides, what's got you so invested all of the sudden?"

"They're making good money," Puck responded evasively.

"Yeah, about that," Santana said as she lazily licked some of the red off her fingertips. "What the hell did you put in these things? They look exactly like the ones Quinn baked at the start of the week but people can't get enough of them."

"It's a secret recipe," he insisted stoically.

Santana laughed.

"You'd think they were like pot brownies with the way everyone keeps coming back for more."

Puck chuckled half-heartedly and adjusted the strap of his backpack.

"Hold on." Santana's eyes narrowed. "Oh my God! Tell me you have not been feeding the entire school crack cakes for this bake sale."

"I didn't put that much in…"

"Are you insane?" Santana marveled. "Puck! Quinn has been selling these. What if she had eaten one and hurt the baby, dipshit?"

"I have the same shift she does. She hasn't bought any," Puck said defensively. "Besides, these cupcakes are for the baby. She needs the money for the bills!"

"Holy crap, and now you're adding steeling a wheelchair kid's money to your repertoire? Jesus Christ! It is just one screw up after another with you, isn't it?"

"I want to show her that I've got what it takes," he explained. "I can take care of her better than Finn, better than anybody—"

"Yeah, you 'took care of her,' all right," Santana seconded and booped a cupcake against Puck's nose, leaving a circle of red. "That's what got her into this spot in the first place."

Puck hung his head and kicked one of the bottom lockers listlessly. Santana paused to take in his pitiful demeanor. The flash of sympathy she felt was quickly dulled by a bite out of one of the cupcakes and her smile returned. She patted his arm before continuing down the hall with her treats. Without looking back, Santana called one last sentiment over her shoulder.

"You just better hope you don't get caught and land your baby-making ass in the slammer."

… … …

"I think I'm in trouble."

"_More_?" Frannie despaired on the other end of the line.

"Well, trouble that comes from the trouble I'm already in," Quinn explained miserably. "Finn told his mother about the pregnancy and now I'm so scared she's going to talk to Mom. It's bad enough that I think she might kind of suspect something already but if that suspicion gets confirmed –"

"Woah, woah, woah," Frannie urged gently. "Slow down. You think Mom already figured it out?"

"It was just this look on her face for a second," Quinn explained. "We were talking about why my Chastity Ball dress didn't fit and it was like she could see it in my eyes or something. It scared the crap out of me. What am I gonna do?"

"Just take a deep breath, sweetie," Frannie told her. "So far, you're still in the clear. My money covered the cost of that sonogram. Finn's paychecks now that he found that job at the restaurant will foot the other bills. Mrs. Hudson hasn't called and blown your cover and, whether Mom has guessed or not, she hasn't gone running to Russell with it. No Code Red, at least not today."

"I guess you're right," Quinn sighed and rubbed her arm. "Maybe I'm overreacting. It's just that lately it's like the walls are closing in on me, like my time is running out. I walk around so scared every day that, after losing everything that I already have, I'm going to lose my family, too."

"Well, I can promise you one family member at least that you're stuck with for life."

Quinn smiled.

"Thanks. Sometimes it feels like you're the only one I've got."

… … …

Santana's feet kicked idly through the air as she lay on her stomach atop the mattress. Brittany was half-on the bed and half-off, with her legs dangling over the footboard. Her hair was fanned out across the sheets and Santana separated it into three sections to weave into a braid while they talked.

"That was really lucky that you drew my name out of the hat this week," Brittany commented as she picked at a loose thread in her uniform.

That afternoon in the Glee Club meeting, they had been paired off by drawing names from a hat and, by some incredible stroke of luck, Santana had drawn Brittany's name.

"Yeah, it was," Santana agreed. "It definitely beats having to work with any of those losers. Quinn got put with Artie. That's going to be awkward as hell. I don't think she's ever said more than two words to him and now she's supposed to perform a ballad in front of him?"

"Actually, I talked to Artie in the lunch line and he says that she already took her turn," Brittany replied with a hint of worry in her voice. "He told me she arranged a piano version of Behind These Hazel Eyes and started crying. I think it kind of freaked him out."

"Seriously?" Santana raised her eyebrows. "Those mood swings are really putting her through the ringer."

"They really are." Brittany frowned. "I do have some good news, though. I think maybe I found the song I wanna do."

"Really? Let's hear it!"

Santana released her hold on her friend's hair as the other girl rose and went to her computer. Brittany slid the mouse to its destination on her screen and clicked. She turned and bounced on her heels with irrepressible enthusiasm.

"Okay, I just kinda found this on YouTube the other day," she prefaced. "I don't know if it actually counts, because I'm still not really sure what a ballad is. We're supposed to find a song that says what we feel, though, and I think this comes pretty close."

Brittany twisted around to press play and then straddled her chair as the track began. Santana scooted to the edge of the bed to listen. For some reason, her nearness seemed to make her companion nervous. Brittany fidgeted and looked at the floor as she started to sing.

"_We've only ever kissed lying down._

_We've only ever touched when there's no one else around._

_I can be elusive, if you want me to._

_I'm not being intrusive; I just wish I knew the truth_

_As to why I wait for you longer than the average person would_

_And why I think about you more than I think one should."_

Santana felt her face getting warm the minute the first lines passed Brittany's lips and a hot flash blazed across the back of her neck. She sat completely paralyzed, uncertain of how to react. The only movement she managed was to clasp her hands in her lap, digging her short nails into her palms until they stung.

"_Our bodies fit together like a make-shift puzzle  
And it's clear to see why you puzzle me  
When you turn your frame and you whisper my name  
As though I am a burden_."

Santana sucked on her bottom lip, torn between mortification and guilt as the other girl's words struck her heart. More than anything, she wished the song could be over or that she could leave. However, it was at that moment that Brittany's eyes lifted and locked on hers, and she knew that she would not be able to move as long as they held her in their sight.

"'_Cause I'm making up for lost time  
And I'm making up for you  
And I'm waking up from last night  
And I'm waking up with you  
So what's new?_"

Santana was fairly certain she was going to be ill. She could feel herself breaking out in a cold sweat and goosebumps rose along her arms as she shuddered. Her stomach felt like it was doing back handsprings and she was having intense difficulty breathing. For a few moments, she was mercifully oblivious to the subsequent lyrics as her heartbeat thundered in her eardrums. However, Brittany's voice broke through the clamor just in time for her to catch a verse that nearly made her choke.

"_Our hands rest together like pieces of paper  
But they're always blank when I hold your hand  
And it gave you a fright when I stayed the night  
And you gave yourself to me._"

Somewhere during the course of the song, Santana had begun biting rather than sucking on her bottom lip, and she suddenly tasted iron as her teeth penetrated the spot. She lowered her head and wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt just as an excuse to break eye contact. The sides of her sneakers tapped together audibly as she anxiously awaited the performance's conclusion.

"_It's not the end.  
It's not the end, so don't let's pretend._"

Perhaps it was just her imagination, but she thought Brittany's voice got somehow softer then, gentler, almost broken. Santana could practically feel the bright eyes locked on her forehead as she continued to stare at her knees. She could sense that gaze pleading for her to look up, but the unbearable pounding in her chest was making her vision go dark at the edges and she could not find it in herself to comply.

Brittany finished singing the last chorus and closed her laptop with a snap. She tugged her legs up against her body as she continued to perch on the chair. Her hands clasped over her knees and she rested her chin on the backs of her palms.

"So," she asked quietly. "What did you think?"

Santana was on her feet in an instant, making a beeline for her backpack by the door. She slid the straps over her arms as she replied.

"That was fine, Britt."

She turned back and tried to look at the other girl but wound up staring at the legs of the chair instead.

"I'm sure that'll work for this week's assignment. Listen, I'd better get going. I'll see you at school tomorrow," Santana mumbled.

Then she was out of the room and at the top of the stairs, speeding toward the front door and the fresh air that waited beyond.

Standing alone in the center of her room, Brittany listened to the sound of Santana's hurried footsteps down the passage. She shook her head, more at herself than her friend, and walked over to her bed. With a heavy sigh, she flopped backward onto the mattress. Now that the company had gone, Lord Tubbington reemerged from his hiding place. His paws scrambled for purchase as his heavy body nearly slipped back in the direction from whence it came. When he finally got his footing, the cat curled up against her side and shut his eyes.

Brittany scratched behind her pet's ears thoughtfully and stared in silence at the closed door through which Santana had disappeared.

… … …

Almost silence.

That was what had settled over the table on the night that Finn came to the Fabrays' house for dinner. The loudest sound was that of the clinking china and silverware as they all enjoyed the ham that Mrs. Fabray had prepared for the evening.

_Well, it could be worse_, Quinn told herself. _At least quiet is better than shouting._

Then her father tapped the side of his glass importantly and held it high.

"I'd like to propose a toast."

Quinn protested mildly but found herself flushing with pleasure as her father spoke so proudly of his family, herself included. Then he mentioned some of what he considered to be her crowning achievements – Captain of the Cheerios, President of the Celibacy Club. Quinn's nervous butterflies returned, only now they felt far larger and more frantic. Her nostrils flared as she breathed deeply and fluttered her eyelids closed, struggling to maintain an air of calm.

Abruptly, Finn stood and made an announcement to the room at large.

"I have to go to the bathroom."

Her parents exchanged baffled looks and Quinn nearly groaned.

"He's just intimidated by you, Daddy," she tried to explain after the boy left the room, but she had a horrible feeling there was far more to it than that.

Little did she know how correct that premonition would be.

Finn returned a few minutes later with her mother's kitchen radio in hand. He plugged it in and set it on the dining room table, and Quinn began to get a sense of just what it was her boyfriend had in mind. Fear rippled beneath her skin and left her hairs standing on end.

"Finn, what's this?" she asked worriedly.

He began to explain to her parents about the ballad assignment in Glee and how it was to express things that were difficult to say with words.

"Oh, God," Quinn said. "Finn, don't. Please, don't."

No amount of pleading on her part would stop him. He was convinced this was the best course of action for the news they needed to break.

Quinn thought she might faint. The whole world felt like it was shifting unstably beneath her feet. This was not the way it was supposed to be. It was too soon. Finn wasn't even supposed to be here when she told. Frannie had said she'd stand with her when the time came. It was all wrong.

The song began and the situation went from unarguably bad to decidedly worse. He was singing Having My Baby. Quinn didn't even dare to look at either of her parents. She purposely avoided their eyes and simply watched Finn, scarcely moving an inch in the chair where she sat.

Finn sang so bravely and happily, as if the news they had to share was something to celebrate. For a moment, Quinn almost thought that was so. Looking into his eyes, she tried to believe it would be all right. Her parents would be supportive; life could carry on as it always had.

Then her father killed the music.

Mr. Fabray gave the boy a look as though he were debating which form of death seemed more suitable, by club or by sword.

"In the den, now," he barked.

They all rose and walked to the room he indicated, dividing into two opposing sides – children and parents.

"There must be some sort of mistake here," Judy said desperately. "Quinnie, we raised you right."

The emotion in her eyes nearly brought tears to Quinn's own. Then her father unexpectedly began to reminisce aloud. It was a story Quinn knew well; she had heard it before. He spoke of how he and other men from his work had gone to a baseball game. They had fathered sons but he was content with his two daughters. Small as she was, Quinn had not held much interest in the game. She fell asleep in her father's arms.

Russell's expression was one of recalled tenderness and devotion. Quinn studied it hungrily, praying it would not fade, but even the most optimistic recesses of her mind knew that could not be.

"Daddy, I'm so sorry," she wept.

"You need to leave," Russell told Finn coldly with a stern point of his finger.

"Wait! Please, Daddy, can we talk about this?" Quinn begged. "Finn is a good guy. He loves me."

"You, too. Get out of my house."

Her father's words landed on Quinn with the force of a crumbling house. She sat stunned while Finn immediately began his supplication to Mrs. Fabray, hoping she would contradict the order.

"Don't bother, Finn," Quinn said wretchedly. "If she wanted to do something, she would have when she found out that I was pregnant."

"You _knew_?" Russell demanded, rounding on his wife.

"I – No. She didn't tell me anything."

"But you knew!" Quinn accused. "And I needed you! I needed my mom and you were so scared of what he would do, if he found out, that you just pushed it aside like we do every bad feeling in this house. If you don't talk about it, it doesn't exist."

The tears burned on her skin as they rolled freely down her cheeks.

"Now, do not turn this on us!" Russell thundered as he rose to his feet. "You are the disappointment here!"

"Why?" Quinn asked as she turned her gaze to her father. "Because I'm not a little girl anymore? Because I made a mistake?"

Her father's expression shifted from fury to icy indifference.

"Who are you? I don't recognize you at all."

It was worse than mere banishment – she was being disowned. Quinn felt certain her heart would rend in two and never mend again.

She tried to reason with him, reached for whatever tattered fragments of their relationship that still survived, but he was impervious to all her supplications. With one mournful, parting look, Quinn's father left the room and called forcefully for his wife to follow. All Quinn could do was stand and sob as she was left utterly isolated. Finn stood in shame beside her, completely at a loss for words.

Half an hour.

That's all the time she was given to pack and be out of their lives forever. Quinn forced her things into a suitcase through the blur of her tears, conscious of the timer on the microwave downstairs that was ticking off the minutes she had left. She loaded up only what she needed, and a few sentimental extras. Isaac the Lamb did not fit easily, but she made room for the only friend she would be taking from her home.

No doubt her father was already drinking in his study. It would not be safe to linger.

And so Quinn wheeled her suitcase across the empty foyer and into the night, closing the door behind her. She could not even stay to see the last green number flash on the screen of the microwave before it counted down to zero.


	8. Play the Part

The dull, steady _clack_-_clack_-_clack_ of the clock matched the deadened thumps of Quinn's heavy heart as she sat on her sister's couch. She clasped her sweaty palms together and pushed the pads of her fingers against the backs of her hands, occasionally breaking the hold to rub the perspiration off on her pants. Glaring sunlight was spilling through the window onto the back of her neck, burning her skin like the scathing glance of a disapproving eye.

"I poured us some fresh iced tea," Frannie announced as she reentered the room. "You looked like you could use it. You're sweating bullets."

Quinn accepted the proffered glass and nodded her head in thanks. She set the drink down on the coffee table.

"So what's going on?" Frannie asked. "It has to be something pretty serious if you can't talk about it over the phone. The baby's okay, isn't she?"

Frannie leaned forward and worried wrinkles formed on her forehead as she studied Quinn's face.

"The baby's fine," Quinn assured her. "The problem is me."

"You?" Frannie repeated and sat back a little. "How so?"

"The secret's out," Quinn stated simply. She dug her fingernails into her palms to keep from crying.

"Dad knows?"

Quinn nodded.

Frannie placed her drink aside on a coaster and slumped in her seat.

"How?"

"Finn," Quinn replied miserably. "I think he thought it would make things better. He has a great mom, so of course he expects parents to be supportive. I couldn't make him understand."

"Still, he had no right," Frannie grumbled. "So what happened?"

Quinn's shoulders shook violently with silent sobs. She clutched the bottom of her shirt in her fists and tried to gulp down enough air to form an audible response.

"He threw me out."

Frannie sat lost in numb disbelief.

"He wouldn't touch me or come near me, not even to hug me goodbye," Quinn blubbered dejectedly. "It was like I'd become something disgusting, not even human and definitely not family. I've never seen him look that way."

"I have," Frannie murmured.

Quinn lifted her head abruptly.

"When?"

The color rose briefly in Frannie's face and she waved her hand dismissively.

"Long story," she responded vaguely. "The point is that I know how he gets when he looks that way. There's no going back. He's made his call and he won't let anyone change his mind."

Frannie scooted aside on the loveseat where she sat and beckoned for Quinn to join her on the other cushion. She wrapped her arms around her sister and rested her cheek on Quinn's shoulder.

"So where did you go after it happened?"

"Finn's house," Quinn answered. "His mom said I can stay there. It's actually closer to my school, so at least I'll save on gas."

She tried to smile but her mouth was too weak and it only made her lips tremble.

"Do they want you to pay rent?" Frannie asked. "I'll cover any of that. I can pay for the cost of food and utilities, whatever you need."

Quinn shook her head.

"You can't keep giving me all this money," she protested. "What about you and Thomas?"

"We're fine," Frannie countered. "We have no reason to worry. You, on the other hand, seem to have more worries every time I see you."

"Life has been exceptionally sucky," Quinn agreed.

They laughed and hugged each other more tightly.

"Well, if there is anything you need that the Hudsons aren't able to provide," Frannie said as she kissed her sister's forehead. "I've got your back, Jack."

Quinn smiled softly. The Glee kids had just sung Lean on Me for her and Finn that same afternoon. Even though it had felt great to have her friends at her side, somehow this reassurance meant even more. She looked at her sister with quiet amazement.

"I wish we could have been like this before," Quinn confessed. "Back when I was in middle school. We used to be, when I was little, but then it just sort of stopped. What happened?"

Frannie licked her lips and tension showed visibly in the set of her shoulders.

"That wasn't really my call, kiddo. I pissed our parents off pretty royally back then. They made it fairly clear I'd better curb my influence over you. It was a really stupid move, letting that cut me off from the only person in the house who still loved me unconditionally, but I sort of closed off for a really long time."

"Compared to what I've done, I can't imagine how you could have landed in that much trouble," Quinn said. "What did you do?"

"It's a little complicated," Frannie told her. She had begun to behave very oddly, fidgeting in her seat and wringing her hands. "It wasn't so much what I did as the fact that—"

"Frannie, I'm home!" Thomas's voice called from the entrance hall, cutting off his wife's monologue.

Frannie's eyes fluttered closed and her nervous ticks vanished.

"In the living room!" she called in response.

Thomas took his time following her voice, briefly swerving to the right to place his briefcase on the dining room table.

"I got the most unexpected call at work today," he said as he loosened his tie. "From your father, as a matter of fact. He just called me out of the blue early this morning and you'll never guess what he said. It's terrible news, actually. You might want to sit down."

Quinn held onto Frannie's hand as Thomas's voice drew nearer.

"He tells me that there was some sort of family disagreement and now Quinn –"

Thomas's sentence dissipated into nothing the moment he saw that the subject of his story was seated beside his wife. Then his hazel eyes widened and he put on his most welcoming smile.

"Oh, hello," he greeted. "I didn't know we had a guest."

His hands crammed into the pockets of his gray slacks and he perched on the couch Quinn had only recently vacated. Thomas looked from his wife to Quinn and back again before brushing back a few strands that had disobeyed the direction of the hairspray and settled onto his forehead.

"Is everything all right?" he asked, politely avoiding any obvious notice of the blotchy skin on both their faces.

"Go ahead and finish your story, Thomas," Frannie said in a voice that held the faintest hint of a challenge. "What did our father say?"

"I, well, he was just saying that…," Thomas fumbled and shot Quinn a brief, apologetic look. "That your sister is no longer living with the family."

He cleared his throat and suddenly became keenly interested in the tassels atop his loafers.

"Did he happen to tell you why?" Frannie queried.

"No." Thomas adjusted his gray overcoat uncomfortably. "Other people were coming into his office and I think he was concerned about being overheard."

"Quinn's pregnant."

The man's face went pale and his dark eyebrows lifted.

"She is?"

Quinn nodded and felt a fresh wave of shame.

"That was what the disagreement was about? That's why you're… Why you're not on Dudley Road anymore?"

Again, Quinn nodded and felt fresh tears begin to rim her eyelids.

"I see," Thomas remarked feebly. His thumb and forefinger traced over the faint signs of stubble on his upper lip and chin. "Have you found someplace to go?"

"With Finn," Quinn said. "The boy I'm dating."

"The father," Thomas concluded without looking to either of them for confirmation. "Well, that's good at least - you all being together, I mean. Everything can still turn out all right. You'll have a family."

"But she belongs with _our_ family," Frannie interjected heatedly. "She's too young to be starting one of her own."

"Sometimes life plays out of order," Thomas shrugged helplessly. "It can still have a happy ending."

"So you don't see anything wrong with my father kicking out a sixteen-year-old girl with no money and no one to guide her decisions?" Frannie demanded incredulously.

"I know how closely Mr. Fabray adheres to his definition of right and wrong," Thomas replied. "Even in his work, he doesn't allow much room to act outside the box."

"And that gives him the right to disown my sister?"

"What can I do, Frannie?" Thomas inquired despairingly with another lift of his shoulders. "He's my father-in-law and my father's business partner. Either way I approach this, he's calling the shots."

"I'm your wife!" Frannie retorted and rose to her feet. "But, I forgot, that still doesn't give me a say in the matter, does it? I can't play that card any more than you can play 'I'm your husband.' It just won't hold up when the choice wasn't even ours."

Thomas's jaw clenched and he turned his head aside. His expression was one of half frustration and half embarrassment that Quinn was privy to the argument.

"I can't tell him what he can do in his own house," he said.

"Fine," Frannie retorted as her features hardened. "But she's not in his house anymore and neither of you is going to stop me from looking out for her in whatever way I can. All right?"

"Of course," Thomas answered. He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt as though the room had become stiflingly hot. His Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped. "I won't give Mr. Fabray any cause to be suspicious. I can keep a secret."

The perspiration on his forehead belied the casual tone of his voice, and the mercy returned to Frannie's face.

"I know you can," she said gently. "Just don't overthink it. He may be a world-class pain in the ass, but he can't read minds. Russell won't give you a hard time if everything seems like it's business as usual. Besides, for you, it will be. I'm the one rebelling against his Decree of Banishment, so you don't have anything to feel guilty about."

Frannie crossed the room and pressed her cool palms against either side of her husband's handsome face.

"Feel better?"

"A little," he admitted. Thomas stood and turned to face Quinn. "I'm sorry your life got so much more complicated. It's… It's a lot to take on, especially at your age."

Quinn and Frannie glanced at each other, knowing how much it cost him to admit even that much, given how highly he esteemed Russell Fabray.

"Thanks, Tommy," Quinn said kindly and kissed his cheek.

Frannie patted her husband's shoulder before reaching for her sister's hand.

"C'mon, sweetie, I'll walk you to the driveway."

… … …

"Psh, they ain't got shit," Santana said derisively.

She and Brittany had settled in the second row of seats that held their fellow club members. The New Directions had convened in the auditorium for an after school scrimmage with the girls of Jane Adams Academy.

"People are full of surprises," Mike remarked from Brittany's other side.

"Plus, they're sexy as hell," Puck piped up, leaning past Mike to address Santana.

"Wowing the masses with clever observations, as always," Santana drawled and narrowed her eyes at him.

She flumped back in her seat and folded her arms.

"The one with the wavy blonde hair is kinda hot," she admitted begrudgingly in a low voice that only carried to Brittany's ear.

Brittany shrugged noncommittally.

"Do_ you_ feel threatened by them?" Santana asked her.

"No, but they haven't even started yet."

"Fair enough," Santana conceded and settled back in her chair once more. "This better be good."

As Will Schuester left the stage to allow their rival school's performance to begin, a song played over the sound system that everyone recognized immediately: Beyonce's Bootylicious.

The Jane Adams girls fell into step with one another and whipped their long hair with abandon. Santana shifted and crossed her legs, clearing her throat quietly. Brittany alone heard the sound and gave her a sideways glance.

The choreography of the number was generally simplistic, at least in Brittany's estimation. She moved to point out that their hair was moving more than their feet when she noticed how Santana's fingers were gripping the arms of her chair.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

Santana did not respond. Instead she wrapped her arms around her middle as some of the girls onstage did headstands while the students who were supporting them sang between their open legs.

"Shit," she hissed under her breath and squeezed her thighs together.

Brittany's brow knotted but she refrained from making a comment. She turned back to watch the remainder of the performance and clapped along with everyone else when it concluded. The Jane Adams girls left the auditorium laughing and shouting triumphantly, their perfume wafting over their audience as they passed.

"They're certainly confident," Mike commented feebly, but that was all Brittany heard before Santana grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the side exit of the auditorium.

"Santana, where are we going?"

She received no answer. They went tearing along the hallway with posters and lockers going by in a blur. Santana grasped the handle of the door to the janitor's closet and jerked it open, ushering Brittany inside.

"Why are we in here? Shouldn't we—"

Brittany's questions were cut off as Santana grabbed the sides of her face and pulled her in for a kiss so hard it made her lips sting.

"That door doesn't lock," Brittany fretted distractedly.

"Then we'll have to be quick," Santana panted and snatched Brittany's wrist. She pulled it toward her and placed the other girl's hand over the stitched-in underwear beneath her skirt without preamble.

When Brittany gaped at her and remained motionless, Santana lifted her eyebrows expectantly.

"They won't even miss us," she insisted in a purr. "We can pop right back out again and be there just as they're getting to the choir room, like we never left."

She coaxed Brittany's fingers beneath the fabric and twitched her hips impatiently.

"C'mon," she goaded and nipped the other girl's earlobe before her tone became more desperate. "Please."

Brittany sighed and rested her forehead on Santana's shoulder. She worked her hand with deft and familiar movements, listening with closed eyes to the gasps and hisses issuing from behind her friend's clenched teeth.

Santana's sneaker slipped across the floor as her knees began to give way. She dug her short nails into the cinderblock wall behind her, scrambling for purchase. Her lips dragged a few distracted kisses along the other girl's neck, the closest to a thank you she was likely to give Brittany for granting her unspoken request.

Her arm shot out and looped over Brittany's shoulder to lock tightly against her back.

"_Fuck_!" Santana groaned and exhaled heavily.

Brittany withdrew her hand and wiped it hastily on a grease-stained rag draped over a nearby shelf. They clumsily exited the closet and made their way to the choir room to rejoin the others.

"Sorry," Santana mumbled with a shrug. "I couldn't relax."

She rounded the corner and didn't look back. Brittany followed while mouthing Santana's words to herself, turning them over and over in her head.

_She couldn't relax?_

Was that what Santana had really needed, just to blow off steam? Was that all she was ever looking for, a release of tension from whomever was around to give it?

Brittany kicked a locker half-heartedly with the side of her shoe and hurried to catch up with her friend. She'd have to save these thoughts for later.

… … …

The parking lot outside the 7/11 had always struck Santana as extremely shady. Puck was too busy making puppy dog eyes at incoming customers, but the sense of possible danger made Santana jumpy. Sirens and barking dogs only set her nerves further on edge. She curled up in the passenger seat of the car and shot a resentful glare at the boy through the open window. When he continued his pitiful act, unaware of her agitation, she exited the car and shuffled over to where he sat on the curb.

"You've been trying for an hour, Puck," Santana complained. "It may be time to wave the white flag here."

"Never!" Puck insisted defiantly. "I'm just a bit rusty, that's all. I've got stuff on my mind. I need to focus."

He smacked the sides of his head and shook himself. Santana recognized this as being remarkably similar to Puck's pregame ritual when he was trying to 'get in the zone.'

"What's eating you up there?" she asked, touching her fingertips to his temple.

"Quinn."

Santana sighed loudly and slid to the ground, using the curb as a headrest.

"Now I'm the one who needs a drink."

"I bought her a book about taking care of babies for really cheap."

"Bought?" Santana challenged with a quirk of her eyebrow.

"Damn it, she had the same reaction! _Stole_, all right?" Puck admitted defensively. "Books are expensive, so I just stowed it under my jacket and left."

"What did she think of it?" Santana asked.

"She always tells me not to take stuff I can't pay for."

"Not the fact that you stole, numb nuts." Santana rolled her eyes. "I don't give two shits for Quinn's moral judgments. _The book_. Was she into it?"

"Kinda. Maybe. I can never really tell." Puck shrugged. "She didn't make me take it back, so I guess she was at least gonna read it."

"Do you think she's going to 'fess up? Come clean about you being the father?"

He shrugged again.

"Is that what you want?"

Puck didn't speak. His eyes lifted from where they had been studying the weak white light washing over the blacktop and met Santana's with rare sincerity.

"You want to start a family with her," Santana whispered bleakly and lifted her gaze to the unblinking stars. "Was that something you ever wanted with me?"

Puck laughed involuntarily and pressed the back of one hand to his nose to stifle a snort.

Santana turned on her side and scowled. She rose to her feet with a grunt and stomped toward the car.

"What?" Puck called after her, still chortling. "Why are you pissed?"

"Because you're an unmitigated ass," Santana snarled.

She climbed back into her seat and slammed the door.

"Just get us some goddamn beer and let's get this over with."

… … …

Quinn was tossing and turning fitfully. During the course of the night, she had unwittingly knocked half of her pillows to the floor and bunched the covers around her thrashing legs. Every nightmare that played in her subconscious mind seemed to bring a fresh wave of guilt and confusion, each more complicated than the last.

_In the first, Terri Schuester and her sister, Kendra Giardi, were on either side of Quinn in a car. They were talking more to each other than to her, one of the only details that remained fairly true-to-life. The two women were speaking almost too rapidly for the girl to catch any of what they said. _

_Exasperated, Quinn finally blurted a truth that, until two days ago, she had been too afraid to admit to anyone: _

"_**I want to keep my baby."**_

_Unlike the panicked reaction this announcement had prompted in reality, Dream Terri and Dream Kendra appeared nonplussed. To Quinn's astonishment, after a brief pause and exchange of significant looks, the sisters continued as if she had said nothing at all. _

_Kendra complained, "This whole thing is taking way too long!"_

_Terri nodded fervently and addressed Quinn. _

"_We think it's best if I just take the baby now. Then you won't have to worry about it." _

_She leaned forward and withdrew a pair of forceps from the glove compartment, snapping them greedily._

"NO!" Quinn cried aloud as she sat upright.

The sheet had somehow wrapped around her wrists now. Quinn flailed desperately until she was certain she had freed herself from both the nightmare and her bedclothes. Still breathing heavily, she whimpered and wrapped her arms around her expanding abdomen. Then Quinn tucked herself back in and tried to drift away again, but the calm did not last long.

_During the second dream, Finn had found out he was not the baby's father. He looked hurt and disillusioned, but the first words out of his mouth were ones Quinn had not anticipated even within the comfort of her sleep. _

"_We can still do this. I can still be a good father even if I'm not the biological dad, can't I?" _

_Then he held her hands and bent his knees to be on her eye level. _

"_It's different, but it can work. I know it can, because we work. We're good together. It's supposed to be you and me, right? Forever." _

Tears streamed down Quinn's face both in her subconscious and in reality. How could she tell Finn the second truth she had been running from, that she no longer saw him in her future? Furthermore, what would that mean for the remainder of her pregnancy, given that she had been sleeping on the Hudsons' fold-out couch each night?

"Get it together," Quinn growled to herself when she awoke. "You need the sleep, for you and the baby."

She rubbed furiously at her dampened eyes and turned onto her other side.

The third dream was the most bizarre and perplexing of all. Recently, in an attempt to distract Finn so she could explore the potential of a relationship with Puck, Quinn had asked Kurt to give Rachel a makeover drastic enough to turn Finn's head. It had been reasonably successful. The tight, formfitting black dress and shiny pumps he had recommended caught more than just the quarterback's attention. Kurt's skill in the fashion department truly was commendable; Rachel had been completely transformed.

_Quinn dreamt that she was alone in the library, studying at one of the large tables and surrounded by textbooks. Suddenly the clack of heels announced the arrival of someone else in the otherwise silent room. _

"_Is this what you had in mind?" a girl's voice asked._

_Surprised, Quinn lifted her eyes to find that Rachel was standing over her. Only it didn't look anything like the Rachel she'd come to know and try her best to ignore. Instead, Rachel was wearing the same outfit Kurt had chosen for the makeover._

"_I don't get what you're talking about," Quinn snarled and returned her focus to the stacks in front of her. _

"_I think you do," Rachel protested. _

_Quinn's view of the page she had been reading was suddenly blocked as the other girl climbed onto the table and sprawled across the open book._

"_This was your idea, wasn't it?" Rachel confirmed and gestured to her outfit._

"_Only the concept, not its execution," Quinn begrudgingly confessed. "You're in my way."_

"_I know," Rachel replied with a smirk. _

"_So why don't you just leave?" Quinn demanded rudely._

"_Because you haven't seen me."_

_Quinn let out a single humorless laugh._

"_I'm looking right at you, Man Hands."_

_Rachel sat up and looked into Quinn's eyes._

"_Looking and seeing are two different things."_

_She reached for Quinn's hand and lifted it to one of the two clasps that held her dress aloft. Then Rachel rested their heads together and whispered in her ear._

"_Your move."_

"What the hell?!" Quinn whispered furiously and shot bolt upright.

She shook herself in disgust and rubbed at her arms as if she felt unclean. With a heavy sigh, Quinn twisted around and pounded her pillows with her fists before flopping down on her stomach.

The dream still stuck to the edges of her consciousness, try as she might to push it from her mind. Quinn's eyelids scrunched tightly closed as she grumbled to herself.

"This is what I get for letting Santana talk us into watching But I'm A Cheerleader on Netflix."

… … …

"Heads up!"

Santana giggled as Brittany snapped at the air, trying to catch a piece of popcorn in her mouth.

"Oh, darn," Brittany pouted when it bounced down her shirt.

She fished it out and tossed it for herself, this time capturing it successfully between her teeth.

"So, was it weird being Teacher for a Day this week?" Santana asked with a small smile.

"When Mr. Schue had me teach hairography? Yeah, I don't get what he's up to lately." Brittany shrugged and leaned back against the arm of the couch. "I thought the point was for us to be different, not copy the moves of other groups."

"You did a good job, though." Santana beamed. "I told you Sue had it all wrong. You're more of a leader than you think."

Brittany flushed with pleasure and trailed her finger over Santana's legs where they crossed atop her stomach.

"It was kind of nice to have them actually listening to me," Brittany admitted.

"I listen to you."

"She says as she reaches for her phone," Brittany teased with a light chuckle.

"I'm just answering a text," Santana protested mildly.

"Whose?" Brittany asked.

She crawled to Santana's end of the couch and tried to tilt the screen of the phone toward her. Santana squealed and wriggled away.

"It's Puck's, okay? Trust me; you don't want to read this stuff. It's lame."

Brittany ducked under Santana's arms and rested her head on the other girl's chest, turning to see what Puck had typed.

"'_Let's hook it up tonight_?'" she read incredulously. "Are you going over there?"

"No, we're just sort of playing around," Santana shrugged and averted her eyes.

"Hang on." Brittany plucked the phone out of Santana's hands. She sat up and arched her spine to lean over the back of the couch, keeping the phone just out of her friend's reach. "Are you guys sexting?"

"Yeah, a little," Santana admitted. "It's nothing hardcore. Seriously, forget about it. It's nothing."

She made another grab for the phone but Brittany hopped away, giggling.

"'_Tell me about your panties_,'" Brittany recited from the most recent message.

"Britt!" Santana protested. "C'mon, give it back."

Brittany held the phone against her chest.

"How are you going to answer?"

Santana grabbed the phone and shot off a quick reply, trying to conceal it from the other girl, but Brittany still managed to catch it.

"'_Not wearing any_,'" Brittany said with arched eyebrows. "Hmm…"

She tugged Santana closer by the loops on her jeans and slipped a hand down the back of her pants.

"Yes you are!" Brittany cried. "Just 'cause it's a thong doesn't mean it doesn't count!"

Santana's face grew hot but she turned away and read Puck's next message before sending off another of her own. Brittany wrapped her leg around Santana to hold her in place and made another mad grab for the cell.

"Brittany!" Santana shrieked, although she couldn't fight back her own giggles. "Let go! Stop tickling me! You can't read them all!"

They scuffled and Brittany playfully nuzzled Santana's neck as her fingers continued mercilessly teasing the other girl's side.

"Shit, you made me resend one of my old ones!" Santana complained, though she didn't seem terribly perturbed.

"He probably won't even notice," Brittany murmured beside her ear.

A few moments later, Santana saw that her friend was right, but she wasn't about to admit it. Brittany stilled her fingers and wrapped her arms around Santana instead.

"Does that really make you happy?" she asked softly.

"What, sexting?"

"Yeah. Well, not exactly. I mean, are you okay that that's all you guys have to talk about?" Brittany queried.

"That's all it's ever been about," Santana replied, trying to keep the old pain from resurfacing in her voice. "He's no good for anything else."

Her words made Brittany frown but Santana booped her nose and smiled sweetly.

"Besides, I don't need him for anything else. I've got you."

Brittany's stomach did a somersault, although she knew better than to read too much into it. Still, she couldn't stop the offer as it flew out of her mouth.

"I could take care of that, too, you know. Then you wouldn't need him at all."

"Britt-Britt, I-," Santana began, but her voice trailed off as she allowed the distance between them to close for a kiss.

She waited until they broke apart before attempting to issue another protest but Brittany touched one finger to her lips, eyes pleading for her to stay silent. Santana sighed and kissed Brittany again, surrendering to the warmth and kind caresses. Her body went limp under the devoted attention and the phone slipped from her fingers onto the floor.

Brittany bunched Santana's shirt up in her fists and pulled it over her head. Her hands ran hungrily over the other girl's skin and raised goosebumps in their wake.

"Your family," Santana panted weakly.

"Movie theater," Brittany mumbled before lightly nipping her neck and shoulder.

Her hands shook as she fumbled with the button and zipper of Santana's pants, unable to make her fingers cooperate. With an exasperated grunt, she tugged the jeans out of the way and allowed them to crumple beside the couch.

Santana bit her lip and pushed up Brittany's shirt. Brittany took the hint and shed it immediately, followed by her sweatpants. She snatched up the remote control and turned off the television, letting only the sound of their overlapping breathing fill the room.

Both of her hands settled over Santana's bra, taking comfort from the wild thundering of her heart. She studied the other girl's face intently, waiting for the merest flicker of something more than lust, but those dark irises yielded as little as ever. The wall remained intact, shutting her out. Brittany squeezed lightly, subtly flexing the muscles in her palms until she felt Santana harden beneath the fabric.

Their lips met again and Brittany had just tentatively slipped her tongue into Santana's mouth when the phone buzzed again.

Santana broke away and picked it up, squinting at the screen as her shoulders tensed.

"That rat bastard," she growled.

Brittany felt her hope diminishing and tried to bring Santana back, sliding her hands along her torso and kissing her neck.

"Ignore him," she said.

"I can't," Santana fumed. "Look at this. He says he's babysitting with Quinn! He's freaking sexting me and auditioning for Teen Dad at the same time! I'm going to kill him!"

Brittany slumped disappointedly against Santana and pouted.

"Poor Quinn."

"Poor _Quinn_? Try poor _**me**_! Somebody needs to make it really clear to him that he can't have his cake and eat it, too!"

Against her better judgment, Brittany brightened.

"That's good. You can break it off with him when you see him at school."

"Oh no." Santana shook her head. "He's not getting off that easy. I've got a better idea. I'll hit him where it really hurts."

"What are you going to do?" Brittany asked as a terrible dread settled in the pit of her stomach.

"I'm going to tell Quinn."

… … …

It was the crunch of gravel that announced a guest pulling into the Pierces' driveway. Brittany sat up from where she had been making angels in the fallen leaves and tilted her head to the side. The car was Quinn's.

Quinn climbed out of the vehicle and circled it, hugging her stomach and periodically wiping tears from her cheeks. She didn't need to speak for Brittany to guess what had upset her. She'd spoken to Santana and, subsequently, to Puck.

Brittany rose to her feet and strode across the yard, arms already extending for a hug.

"I'm such an idiot," Quinn bawled the minute she was safe in her friend's embrace. "Why did I try so hard not to see the truth?"

"Don't say that," Brittany urged gently. "You're one of the smartest people I know."

"Maybe in school but not outside of it," Quinn wept. "All I want is for this baby to have a better childhood than I did. It looks like the only way she stands a chance is if I'm not in her life at all."

"What do you mean?" Brittany asked bewilderedly. "What happened?"

She kept one arm draped around Quinn's shoulders as she led her to the back yard.

"I've made a mess of everything again."

Quinn climbed onto the tire swing and allowed her legs to droop listlessly over the edge. Brittany was struck for a moment by how different her friend was now from the girl who had sat in that same place not so very long ago, dreamily pondering what it would be like to have her first kiss. The Quinn who perched there now seemed so much older, battered and broken by all that had passed in the time since that summer.

"I decided to keep my baby," Quinn said with her eyes shut tight.

Brittany's jaw dropped.

"You did?"

"Yeah, only not with Finn. I wanted to raise her with Puck. Now I find out he's incapable of staying faithful to me and I'm all out of options. Finn's got too much ahead of him and Puck has too much he won't leave behind. I have no choice. I can't do this on my own."

She opened her eyes again and looked at Brittany despairingly.

"So I'm back to giving her up for adoption. I want to be relieved but there's this space in my chest that just feels so empty."

Her legs began to swing in irritable, jerky movements. Brittany kept her distance and watched with a sympathetic expression.

"It wouldn't have been fair," Quinn stated aloud, more to herself than to Brittany. "I'm not having this baby grow up with a father who won't make her top priority, or who runs at the first chance because he wasn't ready for the responsibility. A girl needs her daddy."

Her face flushed and she gulped down a sob.

"She needs that more than anything."

Brittany walked a little closer and gently touched Quinn's knee. Though her face displayed only concern and comfort, at the back of her mind she wished that Santana could see this: the wreckage left behind by Puck and his escapades, the price of too many hearts being on the line.

"I guess I just have to accept that I'm doing the right thing," Quinn concluded miserably. "In this case, the best way to show my love really is to let her go."

Brittany awkwardly hugged Quinn around the rope of the swing and rested her cheek on the other girl's shoulder with a dejected nod of agreement.

"Maybe so."

… … …

When the third bell of the day rang, Quinn gritted her teeth and forced her way through the press of bodies. These days she had to stick close to the wall just to keep from being knocked off balance; the crowd didn't part for her anymore. After a few tense seconds, she finally managed to reach the bathroom and darted inside.

It wasn't until she was washing her hands that Quinn became aware that not all the cubicles were deserted. The sound of muffled sobs became louder just as the water stopped running. Quinn pulled a towel slowly from the dispenser and tilted her head in the direction of the noise. She dried her dampened palms and discarded the towel, all the while easing sideways toward the furthermost stall.

Without calling out to the owner of the voice, Quinn pushed open the unlocked door and it swung inward. Rachel jumped so hard that she nearly fell of the toilet on which she had been perched, fully clothed and hugging her knees to her chest.

"What are you doing in here?" Quinn demanded. Her voice came out harsher than she'd intended, but the other girl took little notice.

"It's all my fault," Rachel blubbered miserably, unable to contain her tears.

"What is?"

"Glee is over," Rachel wailed. "The commercial I got us from Mattress Land? They sent us mattresses for everyone as a thank you and one of them has been opened. Evidently, that counts as accepting payment for the work and now we've lost our amateur status. We can't compete."

She gazed despondently at the filthy bathroom floor and shook her head.

"Here, to think I was so worried about a yearbook photo, and now the club won't even exist at all. I can't believe it. I know I've joined as many clubs as I possibly can, but none of those ever really meant fitting in or being accepted. They were just for my résumé. Glee was mine, my place to feel like I was where I belonged. Now it's gone."

Rachel hiccupped and reached for the toilet paper, ripping off several squares to dab under her eyes.

"So _that's_ what she meant," Quinn murmured as a rush of understanding and indignation washed over her.

"Who are you talking about?" Rachel asked.

"Coach Sylvester," Quinn explained distractedly. "She told me in the hallway that the Glee kids had 'really stepped in it.' I wanted to think she was just using some kind of intimidation tactic, but this is what she had up her sleeve. This is bullshit."

The other girl's eyes widened. Rachel had clearly not expected Quinn to side with The New Directions, and certainly not to seem as angry as she now appeared.

"I already spoke with Mr. Schuester," Rachel expounded falteringly. "He said he was the one who used the open mattress. Something about problems at home…"

Quinn felt a flutter of anxiety in the pit of her stomach, but she held onto the rage and saved her curiosity for another time.

"He seems to think that, if he resigned as director, we might be able to continue," Rachel spluttered. "Even if such a gesture was accepted and we were granted a reprieve, how can we expect to move past this point without our leader? It's hopeless either way. The New Directions will have ended before it had barely begun, and no one will remember us."

"Yes they will," Quinn stated determinedly.

"You see another loophole?" Rachel asked.

"No, but if Mr. Schue can keep us in the running, I can get us that photo."

"Us?" Rachel repeated.

"The whole club," Quinn nodded. "I'll set it in motion right after school so I don't miss my chance."

Rachel stared at Quinn in awe. The faintest sign of hope reemerged on her face. Quinn reached into her bag and handed her classmate a folded bundle of tissues.

"Leave it to me," she told Rachel confidently.

Quinn's eyes narrowed and she held her head high, every inch restored to the same ferocity she'd once possessed as captain of the Cheerios.

"I'll take care of it."

… … …

Mr. Schue did exactly as he had implied to Rachel that he might. He 'took the bullet,' as Puck phrased it when the rest of the Glee Club learned of the situation at their meeting. It pained them all that they could not share the preparations for Sectionals with their teacher, but his speech about their potential stirred everyone enough to give them renewed confidence.

Quinn had held up her end of the deal as well. She engaged in a brief sparring of words with Coach Sylvester and, after reminding the woman that the Cheerios were far guiltier of lost amateur status than the Glee kids would ever be – particularly after free haircuts and tickets to theme parks – she backed Sue into a corner that left her with no choice but to surrender one of the cheerleaders' six pages to the New Directions, free of charge.

Every club member finally consented to pose for the photo in which they had formerly been loath to appear. It was seen as a gesture of gratitude to Mr. Schuester for taking the fall for them, and they stood in a cluster around the club sign with their most winning smiles.

As the camera captured their image with repeated clicks and flashes, Quinn felt Rachel's hand briefly brush against hers and squeeze. It did not linger long enough to actually take hold, but she understood the sentiment all the same. This club meant more to Rachel than it meant to all the others combined and, thanks to Quinn, she would now have a picture to remember it by.

… … …

Brittany's mind was in too many places at once. Her thoughts flew down a dozen different avenues at lightning speed and she could hardly focus enough to keep one foot moving in front of the other.

The truth about Quinn's baby's biological father was about to come to light.

Mercedes had told the rest of the club, after Puck had evidently made her his confidante, but still one member in particular had been left out of the secret circle – Rachel. Everyone had agreed that she could not know because it would take her all of a few quick strides to run off and whisper it into the most dangerous ear: Finn's.

No one had anticipated that she would see the signs all on her own and put the pieces of the puzzle together. Now it was going to take the New Directions' collective effort to keep her silent.

A mass Code Red text from Tina reached Santana's and Brittany's phones. The two dialed her number simultaneously and were clicked onto a party line. Santana launched into accusatory mode at once, demanding to know who told, and for a brief moment Brittany hoped that her friend had set aside the rivalry with Quinn long enough to be genuinely concerned about what this situation could mean for her.

Everyone presumed it had been Santana herself who had let the truth slip, as revenge since she was dating Puck. Santana's eyes narrowed and she scoffed.

"Sex is not dating."

"If it were, Santana and I would be dating."

Brittany froze. Immediately to her left, she felt Santana do the same. The words had come out of nowhere; prior to that moment, Brittany had not added her voice to the others at all. Brittany's blood ran cold with dread and she was almost afraid to meet Santana's gaze directly. She was vaguely aware that they had continued moving, and that Santana had successfully set the group conversation back in motion after the shocked silence. All the same, the air would not return to her lungs. Brittany breathed it in with great gulps, trying to steady her thrumming pulse. Guilt and fear pressed down on her so heavily that nothing seemed able to keep her head from spinning.

Then suddenly the phone call was over and it was just the two of them still standing in the hallway. Brittany waited, eyes downcast in shame, for the anger she knew must be boiling just below Santana's frighteningly passive features.

"Come outside with me," Santana said in a tone Brittany could not quite identify.

The two of them navigated the few hallways between themselves and the courtyard that was used as an outdoor cafeteria in warmer weather. The minute she had propped the door open with her books, Santana squinted one last time through the glass and then turned to face Brittany.

"Where did that come from?" she asked, her speech and demeanor still unnervingly emotionless.

"I don't know," Brittany confessed tremulously. "Santana, I am really, really sorry. It just slipped out. It won't happen again, I promise. We'll just brush it off if they bring it up later. It will die down. Everyone will forget."

"What if they don't?"

Feeling had returned to Santana's voice at last, but not in the way Brittany had been expecting. No anger was present; she heard only muted terror.

"They will," Brittany said with more confidence than she really felt. "We can tell them anything. Tell them it was a joke. Tell them I didn't know what I was saying. Everyone thinks I'm stupid anyway; nobody will question it."

"You're not stupid," Santana responded before sinking onto a nearby bench. "If anything, I'm the dumb one for getting myself into this mess."

Brittany sat beside Santana and hesitantly reached for her hand. Santana accepted the touch and spread her fingers to make room for Brittany's between them.

"Maybe it wouldn't even be so bad," Brittany hazarded bravely. "If they believed what I said. They might not even care. Nobody in the club bothers Kurt about how he feels except you."

Santana's shoulders tensed.

"Kurt's situation is different from mine."

"How?"

"Because he's gay!" Santana cried.

She looked directly at Brittany then, as if challenging her to make the argument they both knew she easily could.

"When he's in Glee Club, he's accepted. He's safe," Brittany said instead. "Why wouldn't you be?"

"Because the only person in this goddamned school who truly cares about me is you," Santana replied. "Everyone else hates me or would at least like to see me knocked down a peg or two. Even Quinn. I don't blame them, but I also can't trust them. They'd crush me underfoot without batting an eyelash."

Brittany privately thought her friend wasn't giving some of their peers enough credit, but she kept that protestation to herself.

"You're not mad at me, are you?" she asked tremulously.

"No, I'm not mad," Santana answered, and the gentle smile on her face was genuine.

She squeezed Brittany's hand once and rose to her feet. They walked back toward the building side by side. Santana picked up her books and held the door open for Brittany.

"With a little luck, Babygate will blow any day now and we'll be the last thing on their minds."

… … …

Blow was exactly what the scandal did, although in a more literal sense than Santana had meant at the time.

Finn stormed into the room at the next club meeting and floored Puck with a single sucker punch. He did not stop there. His knees hit the ground just as his fist made contact again. It snapped back and lashed forward repeatedly, making a horrible thudding sound with each impact.

Everyone watched in silence, too shocked to move, as Mr. Schuester broke the boys apart and tried to calm them down. Finn would not be mollified, however, and demanded that both Quinn and Puck confess the truth.

Quinn did so tremulously and, after renouncing his girlfriend and the club as a whole, Finn kicked a nearby chair and departed.

All rivalries and outside drama forgotten, Santana reached for Quinn just as Brittany did the same. Their friend did not even see them. When she could be sure of not running into Finn in the hallway, Quinn left as well with a sob that echoed behind her.

She found a small alcove and settled down with one arm draped around her belly. The silence here was less stifling now that all those watchful eyes were no longer upon her. Here, Quinn could finally try to breathe. At least, she had started to do so, until she discovered she had been followed.

"I'm so sorry," Rachel said sincerely. "I fully understand if you want to beat me up."

Quinn flicked an icy glare up at her. For a moment, she seriously contemplated the offer.

"If you can, just try and avoid my nose. Right," Rachel braced herself for the punch and closed her eyes.

"I'm not mad at you," Quinn admitted, although a part of her dearly wished that she could be. "All you did was what I wasn't brave enough to do – Tell the truth."

Rachel settled nervously beside her and began explaining her selfish motivations, but Quinn didn't really hear. She was too busy remembering the look in Finn's eyes, in her mother's and her father's - the disappointment, the disbelief, and the pain.

"I have hurt so many people," she whispered.

Rachel sat studying Quinn's face as she tried not to cry. Quinn willed herself not to look over, not to give an inch more than the other girl had already taken.

"Can you go now?" she finally requested when she couldn't bear her classmate's scrutiny any longer. "I just really want to be alone."

It was only when Rachel was not looking at her that Quinn could allow the first tear to fall. She did not have long to dwell in solitude, because Puck filled Rachel's spot beside her almost immediately.

Even after all that had passed between them, he still spoke of himself, Quinn, and the child as though they could be a family. It nearly chipped away what little strength she still had left. Quinn tried her best to let him down easily. It was time, she had decided, to stop looking for any male figure to share this burden with her.

"I'm gonna do this on my own," she told him decisively. "I know you don't understand it, but _please_ respect it."

Then Quinn strode toward the parking lot and the blissful isolation her car would allow, with Puck's eyes on her all the while as she walked out the door.

… … …

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

Brittany stopped in her tracks and gritted her teeth.

"Step into my office," Sue instructed from the doorway. "I think it's high time I got a little update."

There was no chance of escape. Brittany was headed for the one class of the day that separated Santana from her side: Math. Unable to rely on her best friend to navigate the conversation, Brittany was left alone under her coach's critical inspection.

"Dear, doe-eyed, little Brittany," Sue purred dangerously. "You haven't compromised my mission, I trust?"

"I've never told anyone about you wanting us to spy for you," Brittany answered and shook her head to reiterate the statement.

"It's not so much a concern of premature revelation as a matter of loyalty. You're still a Cheerio, aren't you, Brittany? Still adherent to my commands at all times?"

Brittany bobbed her head, though her eyes were darting fervently toward the door.

"Relax," Sue urged in a deceptively smooth voice. "No harm in having a little catch up chitchat."

She settled behind her desk and folded her hands primly on top of it.

"So, what are the mouth-breathers planning for their first big hurrah this Saturday?"

"The same as everyone else," Brittany tried to answer innocently. "Two group numbers and a ballad."

"Very good," Sue said sarcastically. "Glad to know that you aren't letting any important information get past you. What songs are they favoring specifically?"

"The three that they thought they could sing the best."

"Playing coy hardly seems fitting for someone who spends so much time on their back," Sue criticized harshly.

Brittany blinked and nearly argued in her own defense. However, fear of her teacher's wrath and dismay that such news had carried so far kept her silent.

"The songs," Sue demanded simply. "You won't be leaving this office until I know them."

Brittany was on the verge of throwing caution to the wind and bolting when her coach's cold voice stilled her flight.

"Grades are funny things, aren't they?"

Brittany turned to face Ms. Sylvester with a lump in her throat. She swallowed and blinked slowly.

"What do you mean?"

"By the time everything is being averaged out, just one little number could tip the balance. A single test grade could mean the difference between a pass and a fail."

Brittany grasped her meaning immediately and felt a hot wave of panic sweep her from head to toe: her Health test. The one she had just taken the previous day. Her scores in the course were already shaky at best. It wouldn't be difficult for Ms. Sylvester to find reasons to dock extra points and pull her grade down past redemption.

Her shoulders sagged with defeat. One last glance at the door confirmed no one was coming to her rescue. Brittany pouted and fiddled dejectedly with the hem of her skirt.

"Do you have a pen?"

… … …

"Well, I guess it's true what they say," Rachel despaired. "Man plans and God laughs."

"But h-how did they know our songs?" Tina asked. "We j-just picked them this week."

The members of the New Directions were convened in the green room of the Buckeye Civic Auditorium. Their already high competition jitters had now escalated into a full-out panic; the two other competing schools had stolen their songs and performed them as their own.

Accusations and suppositions flew around the room, but it was Kurt who leveled the blame on the Cheerios. Quinn, having at last given up hope of rejoining the ranks of the cheerleaders, backed up his claim. Santana's eyes narrowed.

"Look, we may still be Cheerios, but neither of us ever gave Sue the set list," she asserted.

Beside her, Brittany hesitantly voiced the confession she hadn't had the chance to make to Santana in private.

"Well… I-I did, but I didn't know what she was gonna do with it."

She shrugged helplessly and her lip began to protrude, knowing that this meant all the people she'd started to count as friends would be angry at her. Even Santana distanced herself, and Brittany felt the back of her neck burn with shame. As her best friend continued to emphasize her own innocence in the matter, Brittany couldn't help but feel abandoned while she stood alone in the corner of the room. A fitting place, she thought ruefully, since that's where one was usually sent as punishment.

Mercifully, the conversation turned to what songs they could do instead, numbers that they would be able to take on with so little time for pre-performance preparation. Mike beckoned for Brittany to sit beside him on the couch and she gratefully accepted. Rachel was ready with a ballad and Quinn recommended Somebody to Love as one of their group numbers, since it had been such a crowd pleaser when they performed it in their own auditorium. That left one more group number to be chosen, but no one had any ideas.

Then Finn walked in with sheet music in hand. Everyone gawped at him, amazed that he had decided to come after all, and even more so that he had shown up at the precise moment they needed some outside ideas.

He assigned Matt, Mike, Santana, and Brittany the task of coming up with some quick choreography to accompany the number. Just like that, Brittany was back in everyone's good graces.

_It's only because now they need me_, she thought to herself.

Then again, wasn't that precisely what she was used to already? Only being called upon in times of need?

Her eyes flitted to Santana, but the pain that welled up in her chest was too distracting and she knew she needed to focus. So Brittany joined her co-choreographers around the table and pushed her feelings aside.

The important thing was to try to help them win. If they could just come home with a victory, maybe things would start to look a little brighter.

… … …

"We won!" Santana shouted as she drove to the Pierces' with her windows rolled down.

It had been several days and still the thrill of coming home with a trophy kept a smile on everyone's faces. Things seemed as if they couldn't possibly have taken a better turn. Not only had they defeated the two rival schools at Sectionals, but Sue's treachery had been discovered and she was no longer coach for the Cheerios. In fact, she was temporarily suspended from the school. The truth behind her meddling also helped to reinstate Mr. Schuester as director of the Glee Club. The New Directions had put together a number to make up for him missing their winning performance and to celebrate his return.

Brittany tried to share in Santana's joy, but the smile that stretched across her face was halfhearted. She walked her fingertips along the edge of the passenger door and stared out the window.

"You've been really quiet lately," Santana remarked as she turned right off East 2nd onto South Sugar Street.

This elicited a noncommittal shrug from Brittany but nothing more. She continued to watch the blur of clapboard houses pass by in silence.

"Is something wrong?" Santana pressed.

"I'm just a little sad," Brittany admitted.

Santana parked the car in the Pierces' driveway and faced her friend.

"Talk to me."

Brittany tugged her legs up onto the seat and hugged them to her chest. She rested her cheek on her knees.

"You haven't asked me about what happened with the set list," she said quietly.

Santana lifted and dropped her shoulders indifferently.

"Sue tricked you. It's what she does best, lying up a storm and making sure the blame falls on someone else. It's not your fault."

"It seemed like maybe you thought so at first," Brittany mumbled gloomily. "You walked away from me."

"I was just trying to salvage the whole thing," Santana explained. "I wasn't thinking, just acting out of self-preservation. It was a dick move to leave you standing by yourself. I'm really sorry."

Brittany smiled fleetingly before the frown returned. She traced her finger along Santana's arm.

"Sue didn't just trick me. It wasn't that simple."

"Did she threaten you?" Santana asked. Immediately, she sat up straighter with a dangerous glint in her eye.

"Kinda."

"What was she going to do to you?"

"She never actually said it out loud, but she made it sound like she was gonna flunk me," Brittany answered feebly. Her hands rubbed along her own arms as if trying to ward off a chill.

"That bitch!" Santana growled venomously and smacked her hands against the steering wheel. "If she wasn't halfway to Boca by now, I'd curb stomp her prehistoric scull!"

"I know my parents wouldn't get mad. They know I try, but…," Brittany sniffled and batted her eyelashes to try to reign in the tears. "I just didn't want to fall that far behind. If I get too many Fs, I'll get held back. Then I won't have you with me and I'll just be really lonely."

Santana held both sides of Brittany's face and wiped the girl's cheeks with the pads of her thumbs.

"Well, Sue got what she deserved in the end and they kicked her ass out for a while. Still, even if she had followed through with that threat, you'd never have to worry about being alone."

She reached for Brittany's wrist and held it aloft, indicating the silver bracelet secured there.

"I meant what I said, you know. You're stuck with me, thick or thin, come hell or high water."

Brittany's face lit up in a watery smile. Santana held her pinky aloft and Brittany accepted it with her own, locking their fingers together to reaffirm the promise.

Santana beamed back at Brittany and kissed her nose before climbing out of the car.

"Come on!" she called playfully over her shoulder. "Last one to the top of the stairs is a rotten egg!"

… … …

Quinn left her English class with their new assigned reading balanced precariously atop her already heavy stack of books. She rounded the corner holding the novel in place with her chin and hoped she could reach the desk of her next period without losing it.

Just then, she was blindsided from the left by oncoming student traffic. Or, so she assumed by the force of the collision. Then she heard the voice of her accidental assailant and realized the truth.

The book she had been holding in place so carefully flew out of her grasp and slid across the floor. Rachel picked it up and handed it back to her with stammered apologies.

"Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe," Rachel noted with interest. "Unusual choice."

"Ms. Kerhew says it's an unconventional pick for sophomore reading but that it's worth a try if we're willing to keep our minds open," Quinn replied. Her brow furrowed as she noticed splotches on Rachel's face and the way her lip kept trembling. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing," Rachel lied immediately.

"So your mascara is running of its own accord?" Quinn quipped drily.

"It's just Finn," Rachel divulged reluctantly. "But, seeing as you're his very recent ex, it doesn't seem appropriate to discuss the matter with you."

"Or maybe it's the most appropriate since I understand him better than anyone else you could talk to," Quinn suggested.

Rachel considered this a moment and sighed.

"He doesn't want to be my girlfriend."

"You mean the creepy cat calendars didn't convince him you were written in the stars? Yeah, I've seen them," Quinn confirmed Rachel's unspoken inquiry.

"I know I'm not the easiest person to get along with sometimes… most of the time… but I have supported him through everything and now he wants to play the field," Rachel cried wretchedly. "It wasn't supposed to go this way."

"Yeah, well, life has a habit of going the exact opposite of how we planned," Quinn stated bluntly, but then Rachel's face seemed in danger of crumpling again and she hastened to soften the blow. "Don't take it too hard, though. I was Finn's first girlfriend, and look how that went for him. It's understandable he wouldn't want to dive back into anything committed."

"I guess so," Rachel acknowledged, nodding as she tried to process what the other girl had said.

Quinn assumed their conference was at an end and tried to continue to class. Then Rachel began walking beside her.

"So, how are you doing now? I gather you're living with Puck. Have you settled in okay?" Rachel tried to ask politely.

Quinn kept her eyes trained straight ahead and fought to keep her expression composed.

"The Puckermans have been really generous to take me in now that I can't stay with Finn. Dietary restrictions aside, I'm lucky to have a place to stay."

"'Dietary restrictions?'" Rachel repeated.

"Mrs. Puckerman came home to me frying bacon on her stove and nearly had an aneurism."

"Oh, right, because they're Jewish," Rachel acknowledged. "I can warn you about other no-can-do foods, if it would help."

"I'll muddle through on my own," Quinn said flatly.

Rachel nodded and hugged her own books a little more tightly.

"You still hate me, don't you?"

"No," Quinn admitted with slight curl in her lip. "Although you'd deserve it if I did. I'm trying my level best not to lay blame on anyone for any of this, to just view it as something that's happening to me. Don't go pushing your luck and making me a friendship bracelet or anything, but for the moment you can call us… civil acquaintances."

"Okay," Rachel said far more brightly than Quinn thought the news merited. "This is me, so I'll, um, see you around. Bye!"

She turned into a classroom with an oddly happy smile on her formerly anguished face. Quinn lifted an eyebrow with a bemused laugh.

"Bye."

… … …

Brittany had been nudging Santana insistently under the table for the past twenty minutes. It was 8:45 and they were still sitting in Breadstix with Finn Hudson. It was difficult for Brittany to believe they had even come this far.

Sue had been reinstated as the coach of the Cheerios. Her suspension – which had been almost comically short-lived – was terminated for reasons unknown, although the general belief was that it must involve blackmail. Coach Sylvester had returned livid and more vindictive than ever. She sent for Santana and Brittany immediately, absolutely outraged that they had failed to keep New Directions from their win even after all of her best-laid plans.

So she had a new, albeit reused, tactic: take down the club's star. The way she proposed to do it? Deprive Rachel of her chance with Finn. Date the boy themselves and leave the aspiring starlet utterly crushed.

Brittany had been immediately against the plan. She spent every spare moment in the subsequent classes quietly arguing in opposition. Santana, on the other hand, seemed to believe it was best to keep Sue placated.

"We do not want to kick the hornet's nest right now," she asserted. "It'll be harmless, I promise. He's still a giddy little virgin. It won't take much to inflate his ego and convince him he's the Giacamo Casanova of Spartan Way. Just follow my lead."

So Brittany had followed, but soon she found that they were in a place she couldn't have possibly anticipated in her wildest dreams.

"Let us give you an introduction into the way that we work," Santana said. "You buy us dinner and we make out in front of you. It's like the best deal ever."

_What the hell?_

Brittany didn't break from their act even then, but that was when she increased her efforts to signal to her friend under the table that it was time for a private conference.

At long last, Santana dismissed Finn as if he had only been their taxi service, commanding him to leave the credit card behind and wait for them in the car.

"Why have you been bruising my calves for the past half hour?" Santana demanded in a low voice.

"This is getting out of hand," Brittany said. "Besides, we don't even have to get him to stay away from Rachel. Didn't you catch how he reacted to us gossiping about her? He barely even defended her from us. Like the first half of the semester didn't even happen and he hasn't been staring at her in all our Glee Club meetings."

"Well, he doesn't want to piss us off by being argumentative. Even Finn isn't dumb enough to risk losing his chance at boasting he had two girls at once," Santana pointed out with a shrug.

"Yeah, but he's still not going to get that, right? We're not really going to kiss in front of him?"

"Of course not," Santana waved the inquiry away. "We'll each kiss him on the cheek when he drops us off and he'll be on a cloud. It's that easy. Piece of cake."

"I still don't like it," Brittany frowned. "I don't want to do this anymore."

Santana patted her thigh and smiled. Brittany secretly thought the glint behind the other girl's eyes was almost as alarming as her suggestion to have a make out session viewed by a third party.

"You're almost finished, Britt. Then you won't have to give it a second thought. I can fly the rest solo and keep Coach appeased. Don't worry. I've got it covered."

… … …

Quinn sat in the middle of the Puckermans' living room positively cross-eyed with boredom. She had tried to watch the television half an hour before but nothing caught her attention. It was merely on now to provide background noise in the otherwise quiet home. Mrs. Puckerman was behind the house doing yard work and Puck's little sister was upstairs finishing some assignments.

With a petulant huff, Quinn eased herself back against a pillow and rubbed her ever-growing stomach. The life inside of her had been making its presence known on no uncertain terms lately. Sometimes she would feel a kick near her pelvis or wriggling beneath her ribcage and had to press insistently at the spot until the baby consented to move.

Right now there was a different sort of internal communication taking place, however, one from an organ that was still her own: her rumbling gut. Quinn was hungry. Her head lolled to the side in the direction of the kitchen. It seemed impossibly far away to her aching feet. Was it worth the effort it would take to pull herself off the sinking couch cushions?

She didn't have time to reach that conclusion because, at that exact moment, Puck entered through the front door. Well, almost. He opened it only a crack and stuck his head through the space to peer into the house beyond.

"Psst! Quinn!" he hissed before realizing that she was already looking at him.

"What?" Quinn demanded with a scarcely-suppressed eye roll.

"Is anybody else around?" Puck asked in an undertone.

"No," Quinn replied. "Your mom's outside and your sister is upstairs. Why?"

"Awesome. C'mon!" he beckoned eagerly.

"Easier said than done, Puck," she growled irritably. "In case you haven't noticed, it takes me a while to do anything anymore."

Puck sighed and darted through the doorway to tug her to a standing position. Then he hurried Quinn along back the way he came.

"What's gotten into you?" she griped. "Are you high?"

"No!" he exclaimed defensively. "Well, not right now, anyway. We're in the middle of a covert operation here. Keep your voice down."

Quinn made no attempt to hide the fact that she was questioning his sanity but allowed herself to be led out to the car and loaded into the passenger side.

"So, where are we going?" she asked while carefully sliding the belt into place.

The young man spared her a brief look and a cryptic smirk before he turned the key in the ignition.

"You'll see."

This was all the more he would say on the matter until they pulled into the parking lot of a Burger King. He steered the car into the line wrapping around the drive-thru and tapped his thumbs against the wheel while they waited. Quinn sucked on the insides of her cheeks and tried to bite back the countless comments she was dying to make but in the end one question still slipped out.

"So, this is it?" she groused. "You hauled me off the couch and dragged me out of the house because you had a mad case of the munchies?"

"Not at all," Puck protested. "I'm not even hungry. At least, not like I usually am."

"Then why are we here?"

"Listen," he explained and turned to face her properly for the first time. "I know that leaving Finn and his family to move in with mine hasn't been easy. You've had to make a lot of adjustments and give up a ton of stuff. It makes you cranky. Hell, I would be, too. I can't change it all for you; we are the way we are. But there is one thing I can help you get that might make you feel a little better."

Almost as if on cue, it was their turn to order. Puck leaned forward to choose the desired items.

"I'll have two cokes and two bacon cheeseburgers. That's all."

Quinn gazed at him with wide eyes and her mouth agape. He took in her surprise with a sideways glance but only acknowledged it with a small smile before moving up to the second window.

Once they had their food, Puck pulled into an empty parking space and opened both wrappers. With one deft hand, he plucked the bacon off the top of the burger on his left and added it to the one on his right. Then he handed the second one to Quinn and took the first for himself. He placed the cokes in the cup holders and leaned back against his seat, clearly quite proud of himself.

"Thank you," Quinn murmured quietly. "I didn't know I had complained so much that even you heard me."

Puck shrugged indifferently and took a sip from his drink.

"Don't sweat it. I turned your whole world upside down; the least I can do is buy you a damn sandwich," he said while looking out the window. "Dig in."

Quinn did so contentedly and let out a moan of satisfaction.

"I love you," she said around a mouthful of her meal.

Puck couldn't quite tell if she was saying it to him or the bacon cheeseburger but he took a small bite from his own and muttered, "I love you, too."

… … …

_Maybe Brittany was right after all_.

That was the first thought Santana had after having sex with Finn Hudson.

It had seemed like such a good idea earlier that week. Coach Sylvester was on another of her bizarre kicks, this time idolizing Madonna and insisting that her Cheerios do the same. In the spirit of this most recent inspiration, she ordered them all to go find younger men to date. Finn's birthday only came after Santana's by a handful of days, but it still counted. Plus, what better way to make sure Brittany's sex versus dating blab slipped from everyone's memory for good than to bed McKinley's most popular but elusive virgin?

Now that it was over, Santana understood that neither aspect of what she had previously deemed a "win-win" was consolation enough for how horrible she felt. It wasn't right, any of it. She had arrived late at the Courtyard Lima Hotel only to find that Finn had locked himself in the bathroom and wouldn't come out.

While she waited for him to find his courage, Santana changed into the lingerie she had bought for the night and tried to get comfortable on the bed. She shifted her body around several times, trying to decide which position she ought to be in when he finally emerged. She had never pre-arranged sex this way before; there was no heat of the moment, no spontaneity. It felt more like a business transaction, and a poorly conducted one at that.

The actual act itself had been disastrous. He fell on her so clumsily and his body, already sticky with nervous sweat, stuck to hers in a way that made Santana's skin crawl. Somehow she had thought he might try to be tender – he was the sort of romantic who'd want the first time to be sweet and perfect – but there was nothing ideal about the way he fumbled amateurishly in his movements and displayed an unfortunate fixation on roughly groping her breasts.

The cheap motel covers irritated the backs of her thighs. Santana started aiding his thrusts just to use the friction to scratch the itch. She tried to feign a little enthusiasm, to run her hands over his chest despite the fact that he'd insisted on still wearing his shirt, but even her training in putting on a phony smile for cheerleading competitions couldn't help her find a way to fake it through this.

When he had finished, Finn rolled onto the vacant pillows and pulled the covers up over himself. Santana tugged her lingerie back on and copied his stance by folding her hands and staring straight ahead. It was easier than looking at him directly anyway. The red light filtering through the window felt as though it was belatedly censuring their act, advising them not to proceed. Now it was too late. Santana had taken something from him that she didn't even want to belong to her, and she couldn't give it back.

Unbidden, Santana flashed back to her own first time and wondered if Finn felt the chill as well, the shivering realization that the moment was gone and the expectations had been founded on nothing. She could still see Puck, only fourteen then but just as incomprehensible as he was now, leaving her naked and alone so he could eat in the kitchen downstairs.

Strangely, Santana was hungry now. She wanted more than anything to get dressed, eat, and leave that room behind her.

"Do you think they have room service in this place?" she asked abruptly. "'Cause I want a burger."

Finn still hadn't spoken a word. Santana busied her hands and pulled out a drawer on the bedside table to examine the contents.

"I thought I'd feel different after," Finn confessed into the emptiness.

Santana offered vague words of comfort, unwilling to delve too deep into personal experience when she was already feeling so vulnerable. Only her conscience wouldn't let her get off that easily.

_Do it_, her mind urged. _Ask the thing you wanted him to ask._

"How do you feel?"

"I don't feel anything," Finn said despondently. "'Cause it didn't mean anything."

The last of Santana's efforts to redeem her actions and the situation crumbled. She hated herself, hated that night, hated everything that had led her to this place. Finn was silent again, and the quiet weighed down on Santana until she found it difficult to breathe. She closed her eyes to hold in the tears and murmured softly.

"Well, at least now it's over."

… … …

It was far from over.

The worst part of all still waited: telling Brittany. Santana had expected shock and confusion, maybe even disappointment, but what she hadn't foreseen was the way tears sprang into Brittany's eyes as she recoiled.

"Is this punishment?" Brittany asked quaveringly. "For what I said on the party line? I thought you were okay because nobody said anything. I thought you weren't angry at me."

"I wasn't! I'm not!" Santana insisted.

She tried to hold Brittany's arm but her friend did not want to be touched.

"It's because of what I said in the hall the other day," Brittany concluded as the color drained from her face. "When we were talking about dating younger men and I told you how I was going to 'date' my sister's friend from soccer. I told you that you should hook up with Finn because he's a week younger than you. I didn't mean for you to actually do it! Santana, I was joking. Sue's assignment was so ridiculous. I thought you knew that."

"I knew you weren't serious," Santana acknowledged. "But it got me thinking, and I started wondering if maybe it was worth a try for my image and to get myself that promotion to captain now that Quinn's out."

"And to make sure that everyone knew you liked boys only," Brittany finished in a deadened voice.

"Yeah, well, it ended up being a complete bust so it serves me right, doesn't it?" Santana griped sensitively. "Sue's still not satisfied and I'm still not where I want to be. Now she's putting this pressure on us to lose weight for this goddamn magazine spot. Do you know what she said to me before I went to the showers today?"

Brittany reluctantly looked at Santana and shook her head.

"She told me I'd have to 'wage war against my genetics' and trim up my 'lardy Latina waistline.' What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Santana crossed Brittany's bedroom and opened her closet, examining her reflection critically in the mirror.

"I guess I could afford to cut back on the snack attacks during our Friday night movies," she admitted while she pinched one of her thighs.

"Ms. Sylvester doesn't know what she's talking about," Brittany asserted immediately. "There's nothing wrong with your body."

Santana snorted and angled herself to study her profile.

"The red lines left when I take my clothes off would suggest otherwise," she countered. "I'm squeezed into this thing. No wonder she wants me to tone it down. I'm like a freaking stuffed sausage in this getup."

"You know she orders them a size too small so they're formfitting!" Brittany protested.

She rose to stand behind Santana and rested her chin on the other girl's shoulder.

"Still, there's a difference between formfitting and form _squishing_," Santana disputed. "So, in this case at least, that makes her right. A few pounds have gotta go."

Brittany sighed heavily and pressed her forehead against the curve of Santana's neck.

"I think you're perfect no matter what."

… … …

This was the first time since the fact she was pregnant became public that Quinn could actually remember being glad she was not a member of the Cheerios. All the girls had started carrying around water bottles filled with awful so-called "health drinks" and eating nothing along with them. Quinn asked her friends about Sue's concocted beverages and Brittany joked that even sand would improve the taste.

It all seemed laughable, not to mention completely typical of their fanatic instructor, until Quinn saw Kurt and Mercedes in uniforms in the cafeteria and watched Mercedes leave an entire lunch tray untouched.

Alarmed and confused, Quinn started sitting at nearby tables that week so she could keep watch. On Thursday, Mercedes sat with Tina and Artie, both of whom kept kindly offering her food in the hope that she would change her mind. This unwanted focus on her diet made Mercedes instantly defensive and she stood to leave. However, before she had even covered half the distance to the cafeteria doorway, she collapsed.

Quinn reached her side before anyone else had even registered what happened. She lifted the girl's head into her lap and shook her gently.

"Mercedes? Mercedes, can you hear me?"

"Yeah," she mumbled feebly. "I just feel a little weak."

"We've got to get you to the nurse's office," Quinn told her before turning to the rest of the cafeteria. "Can somebody help me?"

Teachers were called for and Mercedes was helped to her feet before being led to the school nurse. Quinn followed at a distance, rifling through her purse for spare change. She paused at one of the machines in the hallway and bought a granola bar, which she offered to Mercedes as soon as the nurse had checked her blood pressure and stepped away.

It was the first time they had ever had such a pleasant exchange. Quinn felt the familiar twist of guilt as it was brought to her attention once again how alienated she managed to make others feel. So, this time, she chose to offer her help.

Quinn was unaccustomed to speaking about the time before her weight loss to anyone besides Santana and Brittany. She could feel her pulse pounding as she admitted to Mercedes that she knew exactly what dieting felt like because she had been there herself. Only there had been no one around at the time to impart the hard-earned wisdom she now shared with Mercedes.

"When you start eating for somebody else so that they can grow and be healthy, your relationship to food changes. What I realized is that, if I'm so willing to eat right to take care of this baby, why am I not willing to do it for myself?"

A tear spilled down Mercedes's cheek.

"You are so lucky," Quinn said sincerely. "You've always been at home in your body. Don't let Ms. Sylvester take that away from you."

At Quinn's insistence, she remained with Mercedes while they waited for her mom to pick her up from school.

"I know I don't want to feel this way ever again," Mercedes said after a few minutes. "But I also know I never want anybody else to feel it either. I want to help Kurt and the others love themselves, too. I don't want Coach to win."

Quinn nodded her approval.

"You should definitely tell them. I know for a fact that some of the more seasoned Cheerios could stand to hear that, too."

Mercedes gave Quinn a small smile.

"I think I have an idea for how I want to take a stand. Would you help me?"

Quinn returned the smile with one of her own.

"I'd be happy to."

… … …

Brittany climbed the gym bleachers wearily and settled onto one of the topmost seats. She leaned back and stared at the ceiling with a grunt.

"What's the matter, sunshine? Is there trouble at the top?"

Brittany propped herself on her elbows to see who was speaking and spotted Mr. Kidney, the janitor, leaning against the handle of his mop.

"Yeah, sort of," she called back to him.

He ascended the stairs and settled beside her.

"It's a tricky thing, popularity. It looks nice from an outsider's perspective but it's not always all it's cracked up to be."

Brittany turned her head to the side and studied him curiously. He couldn't really be that far off from her age, if his clean-shaven face was any indication. There was also something youthful in the sparkle of his gray eyes and the ease of his bright smile.

"You had trouble with social status in school?" she guessed tentatively.

"Actually, I had the opposite," he chuckled. "I was the star of every sport I could squeeze into my schedule, top of the heap for all four years."

"What happened then?"

"I lived too much in the now and didn't prepare for later," Mr. Kidney sighed. "I scraped by with my grades in high school. Then, when I got to college on a baseball scholarship, I partied, I drank, and I got myself kicked out. Now, four years later, I'm sweeping the halls I used to rule and polishing off the old trophies I won. Hell, I smuggle in vodka in a teapot just to get me through the day."

"That's really sad," Brittany sympathized.

"Yeah, but that's life. Or, it's mine, anyway," Mr. Kidney shrugged. "What about yours? What's troubling your head, kid?"

"My friends," Brittany sighed. "And my coach. Well, just kinda school in general, like the way it all works, you know? First we're being put on diets where we can only drink this sick stuff Ms. Sylvester made for us. The Cheerios rebelled at the school assembly and sang a song about being beautiful, so I thought that'd all be over. Only now there's this anonymous Glist ranking the hotness of the Glee Clubbers and even that new kid that Rachel's dating, Jesse, is on there but some of the original members got left off of it. There's always somebody telling everybody that they're not good enough."

Mr. Kidney pulled a toothpick from his pocket and clamped it between his teeth.

"Do you feel like you're not good enough?"

Brittany lifted her shoulders and dropped them, lowering her eyes to stare at her sneakers.

"Maybe a little," she said. "But I'm more worried about my friend, my best friend, Santana. She wants to be captain of the Cheerios so badly and it's like she doesn't care if it kills her to get there."

"Have you guys talked about it?"

"She's really good at talking," Brittany laughed a little. "But not so much at listening."

"Hardheaded," Mr. Kidney deduced. "Just like I was."

"What did it take to turn you around?"

"A heavy dose of reality," he replied. "Only, most of the time, that's something that can't be dealt by force. It takes time. You can't make this friend of yours change until she's good and ready to. You've gotta have patience and give her space."

Brittany groaned and flopped backward.

"That's what I was afraid of."

Mr. Kidney frowned and ran a hand through his short, light brown hair. He took the toothpick out of his mouth and gently poked her leg with it.

"Cheer up, doll. It'll happen. If you stick around and keep being understanding, you'll be the first person she thanks when things start looking up. Just have some faith."

Brittany sat up and looked at him gratefully.

"You're really good at giving advice, Mr. Kidney."

"Call me Dylan," he said kindly. "And you're a sweet girl for caring so much about your friend."

He nudged her companionably with his arm but paused as soon as they touched. Brittany stayed still as well, knowing why he was looking at her the way he was and finding that, truthfully, she didn't really mind. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Brittany smiled and held his gaze.

Dylan leaned forward and was only a few inches away from her face when she warned him, "My body's been a little achy. I might be coming down with a cold."

All Dylan did was smile and lean closer still.

"I'll take my chances."

… … …

Frannie warmed her hands on the fresh cup of coffee she had just accepted from the barista and joined Quinn at the corner table.

"This is a nice place," she commented, looking around interestedly. "The Lima Bean. I'll have to remember that when I visit at Christmastime."

Quinn nodded and nibbled on a cookie.

"How have you been, sweetheart?" Frannie asked. "You're living with the biological father now. Is it better or worse than being with the Hudsons?"

"Pretty equal," Quinn responded as she stirred her drink with a straw. "Either way, I know the bottom line is that I'm fending for myself."

"I'd move here for you to live with me instead, if I could," Frannie said.

"I know you would," Quinn acknowledged appreciatively.

She hesitated, reluctant to say what was weighing most heavily on her mind.

"Frannie, I…um… I did something kind of stupid."

Her sister gave her a broad grin.

"You're talking to the champ in that department," Frannie chuckled. "I'm sure it's not as bad as you think. What happened, Goose?"

"I made a list," Quinn confessed. "It ranked from the hottest Glee Club member down to the least attractive. It was crazy and completely on a whim and I really regret it. I just wanted people to see me as number one again."

Frannie frowned empathetically.

"Did it get you into trouble?"

"No, thankfully," Quinn said. "Mr. Schuester covered for me. I'm really lucky he didn't tell our principal. I was afraid I'd be expelled."

Frannie broke off a piece of the muffin she'd purchased and popped it into her mouth.

"I understand how much your social status means to you," she said. "Especially since you know what it's like at the other end of the spectrum. There's just one thing that confuses me."

"How I could be such a moron? Me, too."

"No," Frannie laughed. "It's just that the Glee Club has been branded the least popular group at McKinley, according to what you've told me. Why make a list ranking its members? If the rest of the school ignores them, then doesn't that mean the list would only change how the people within the club saw you?"

Quinn sat with her mouth open for a moment, blinking occasionally, the cookie still held aloft.

"See what I mean?" she cried at last. "I've lost it completely. The plan made perfect sense to my damn pregnancy brain."

Frannie held onto Quinn's hand and squeezed it consolingly.

"Take it from someone whose whole future was determined by appearances. Better for everyone else to think you're a freak while you're being the version of yourself that makes you happiest than to let them tell you who you should be and wake up every morning with regret."

… … …

Brittany stretched out on her bed and covered her eyes with one arm. The mattress creaked a second time and she was greeted by a loud meow.

"Hi, Lord Tubbington," Brittany mumbled without looking.

The cat turned in a circle and meowed again.

"No, no Santana today," Brittany answered as if he had made an inquiry into her whereabouts. "She's too busy trying to figure out how she's going to destroy Mercedes for starting to date Puck."

Lord Tubbington nudged her arm and purred.

"I know; I don't understand it either," Brittany concurred. "She said they weren't dating but she won't let him date somebody else. I guess it's like you and your catnip mice. Just because you aren't chewing on them all at once doesn't mean you're okay with Charity borrowing one."

The portly feline climbed onto Brittany's chest and looked into her eyes.

"What am I going to do? Wait it out, I guess. That's what Mr. Kidn- Dylan told me to do," Brittany said as she stroked the cat's back pensively. "She's got her ties to guys keeping her busy – Matt, Puck, Finn – maybe I just need to get back on the field."

She held Lord Tubbington close to her face and frowned deeply.

"But I don't want to be in a relationship with anybody right now."

Lord Tubbington continued gazing at her unblinkingly.

"Or, at least, not any _guy_," Brittany conceded. "Kurt came into Glee Club today acting like a country boy. He changed his voice, his clothes, and the way he walked. So I offered to make out with him."

She placed the cat back down on her stomach and covered her face with her hands.

"I know, I know. I'm a crazy person. It just seemed like the best solution. He's bound to realize that isn't who he really is, and I know being in a relationship with him isn't where I want to be. We can just keep each other company until it wears off. No big deal, right?"

Lord Tubbington stuck his tongue out and closed his eyes. Brittany pouted and flopped back against the pillows again.

"Yeah, I think so, too."

… … …

Regionals were drawing nearer every day and the Glee kids were growing increasingly nervous. Even though she was dating the former lead of their most fearsome competitor, Vocal Adrenaline, Rachel decided that getting a firsthand one-up on Jesse's alma mater wouldn't hurt.

She asked Mercedes and Quinn to accompany her as backup and listen in on the other club's rehearsal. Quinn provided their transportation and followed the other two girls up the steps into the second level of seating in Carmel High's auditorium.

Vocal Adrenaline was preparing a Lady Gaga number, perfectly choreographed and equipped with red Chantilly lace replicas of the pop idol's costume from one of her live performances. A few yards in front of her students, their coach, Ms. Shelby Corcoran, paced back and forth calling out criticisms and suggestions.

Quinn took her seat beside Rachel and watched carefully. It didn't take much observation to see that they were good, leagues ahead of the New Directions even in this choppy phase of prep work. Even still, Ms. Corcoran was dissatisfied. She called for them all to stop and expressed her concern that they didn't understand what theatricality was all about, and then she offered to demonstrate.

Shelby was instantly in command of both the stage and her audience. Quinn found herself leaning forward in her chair without making any conscious decision to move; the woman's presence was captivating. When her voice filled the auditorium, a hush fell over everyone within earshot. They scarcely dared to breathe or blink, lest they miss a single moment of the creative sincerity that poured out of her as though her soul, not her body, was what stood before the footlights.

Quinn glanced at Rachel and saw that the other girl's eyes were lined with tears. It was a very emotional reaction but, then again, Rachel's passion for the arts always did manifest itself in strong and unpredictable ways.

What did surprise Quinn was when Rachel rose to her feet and started walking toward the steps. Mercedes called after her, but she did not seem to hear.

"Get back here," Quinn commanded in a whisper, but was likewise ignored.

Mercedes and Quinn leaned over the balcony and peered into the shadows below, watching as Rachel emerged there and approached the foot of the stage. Shelby's performance concluded and she continued to stare into the middle distance until Rachel's voice caught her attention.

"Miss Corcoran? I'm Rachel Berry. I'm your daughter."

Quinn and Mercedes exchanged shocked looks and turned immediately back to see what would happen next. Shelby became visibly flustered and dismissed Vocal Adrenaline for the day. She watched the students leave with a wary eye and then ushered Rachel to a couple of seats in the now empty house.

"Maybe we should go," Mercedes suggested quietly.

Quinn hesitantly nodded.

"We can wait in the car," she concurred.

They waited for half an hour before they finally spotted Rachel stumbling out of one of the school's entrance doors. Quinn climbed out of the car immediately, thinking perhaps Rachel had somehow twisted an ankle, but as the girl drew nearer she saw that the real problem was that Rachel could not see through her tears.

Quinn shuffled forward as quickly as her sizable belly and sore feet would allow. She reached her classmate not a moment too soon and Rachel collapsed against her chest.

Mercedes, who was still waiting inside the car, gestured a question through the glass. Quinn shrugged confusedly and stroked Rachel's hair.

"Is it true, what you said back there?" she asked her quietly. "That's your mother?"

Rachel blubbered and nodded feebly.

"How did she take the news?"

"We talked for a little but I don't think she wants me," Rachel sobbed. "All I wanted was for her to hug me and say that everything was going to be all right, that she'd be here from now on, but she didn't even sit in the same row as me."

"I'm so sorry, Rachel," Quinn said truthfully. "I know all about parents not being there when you need them. The pain… It sucks. Nobody should have to go through that."

"Not even a sworn enemy like me?" Rachel joked tearfully.

Quinn laughed and gave the girl's torso an extra squeeze.

"Not even you. Listen, this is a lot for you to process right now. We don't have to discuss competition tactics today. I'm just going to get you home so you have some time to think, okay?"

Rachel rubbed at her face with the back of her hand and nodded. She climbed into the back seat but, just before she shut the door, she stopped.

"Hey, Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Quinn smiled and opened her own door.

"Any time."

… … …

"We have an emergency on our hands," Santana said the minute she joined Brittany in the hallway. "I'm declaring DEFCON 1."

"Worse than Vocal Adrenaline using our auditorium for a performance just to show us we're doomed to failure at Regionals?" Brittany queried. "What is it?"

"Puck's on the scent," Santana elaborated. "I… well, to sum it up, I suggested some things in the bedroom and he got suspicious. He joked about me picking it up from you, which of course I denied. Only he won't let up and he was trying to snoop through the old messages on my phone and now we're just fucked. We are well and royally fucked."

"So what does he want now?" Brittany asked quietly.

"A threesome, which is completely ludicrous and I told him to go drill a knothole but -"

"Set it up."

"What?" Santana gawked incredulously.

"Set it up," Brittany repeated dully. "He won't let it go until he's had his curiosity satisfied. We do this and he gets off your case. Find out the time and the place."

Santana froze, buffeted on either side by the passing student traffic. Her jaw was still dropped and she barely blinked.

"You'd do this for me?"

Brittany gritted her teeth and batted her eyelids rapidly, sniffling once.

"I'd do anything for you. _You know that_. So set it up."

Then she turned in the direction they'd been headed and picked up her pace so that her friend could not follow. Santana mouthed wordlessly and watched her go.

… … …

Santana could not sleep after the date was set. She couldn't focus in class, practice, or Glee Club. The rising heat on the back of her neck kept her from meeting Brittany's gaze directly for the rest of the week. Puck, on the other hand, kept stealing every opportunity to catch her eye and wink at her roguishly. Santana just shook her head and turned away.

Since Quinn was still living there, it was clear they could not meet at the Puckermans'. Brittany's place was also a definite no, which left Santana's house. It didn't take much careful planning to make the arrangements. Her parents went out every Saturday evening anyway and her little brother would be spending the night with a friend. It was almost too easy.

Brittany arrived a few minutes early but did not say much as she walked into the house. She started to ascend the stairs but Santana called after her.

"Not there," Santana said. "We're going in the basement."

Brittany's eyebrows lifted in surprise but she shrugged and turned in that direction instead.

The Lopez family's basement was fully furbished and pleasantly warm. A billiard room, bar, guest bedroom, and bathroom filled what space had not been sectioned off as a large storage closet on the far end. Brittany grabbed the 8-ball and rolled it directly into the corner pocket before walking into the spare bedroom and flicking on the light.

"When is he coming?" she asked.

"Soon, I think," Santana answered nervously. "I told him seven-thirty but he always runs a little late."

Brittany eyed the king size mattress and chose instead to sit in the corner chair.

"You can still back out of this," Santana offered without turning to face her. "I'll make up an excuse for you, if you want."

She glanced sideways to catch her friend's reaction. Brittany shook her head slowly and sat with hollow eyes.

"No more excuses. Tonight should end it."

Santana nodded vaguely and jumped when a doorbell sounded overhead.

"That's him."

Her mouth was suddenly dry. Santana left Brittany seated downstairs and went to answer the door. Puck was waiting on her front porch with a huge, prematurely-smug grin on his face.

"Hey," he greeted in a low voice.

"Hey," Santana said back with a facial spasm she had intended to be a smile. "Come on in. She's already downstairs."

Puck swaggered into the house and made his way to the basement. He looked around for a moment and spotted the light in the guest bedroom.

"Brittany," he greeted with an incline of his head as he entered.

"Puck," she responded archly.

Santana watched the exchange from the doorway and chewed on her lip.

"So," Puck said with an anxious clap of his hands. "How do these things get started in real life? Pretty sure they don't work the same way as in pornos."

Brittany snorted but said nothing.

"I'll, um, lock the door and then I guess we should all get undressed," Santana suggested as her face began to burn.

Puck smirked again and pulled his shirt off, clearly bending his arms as much as possible to showcase his biceps. He dropped his jeans to the floor and then his boxers before settling under the comforter in the middle of the bed. There, he stretched out with his hands behind his head and waited like a king.

Santana locked the door and turned on the bedside lamp before she flicked the light switch down again. She and Brittany undressed with their backs to each other in complete silence. The only sound for a few moments was Puck's excited breathing.

Santana could hear Brittany climbing under the comforter on the far side of the bed. Though she didn't think she could bear the sight, Santana turned and climbed in on the nearest side. Puck was already running his hand hungrily along Brittany's thigh. Santana reached out to hold onto his shoulders and kiss his back just to block the scene from view. Still, she heard the kiss that followed and began to feel lightheaded.

Puck's mouth moved to Brittany's neck and her face was now within her friend's line of sight again. Santana saw the expression in her eyes and had to look away.

When a few minutes had passed, Puck turned over and dragged Santana's face to his. She submitted to the touch but barely returned it. All the while, she could feel Brittany's eyes on her and they scalded like a brand.

Then Puck pulled away from her and his eyes grew darker, hungrier. Santana knew with a sinking feeling what he wanted next. The lightheadedness increased and left her feeling dizzy. His hand gripped the backs of both their heads and urged Brittany and Santana in to share a kiss.

Santana felt her gut somersault. Pinpricks of fear covered her flesh when she saw that the only feeling she could recognize in Brittany's expression was determination.

Brittany held onto both sides of her neck and pressed their mouths together so swiftly that Santana was sure her lips would be swollen. The kiss was fierce and deep without any prelude. Bewildered, Santana allowed their tongues to meet even as a shudder ran through her body.

"Fuck," Puck whispered amazedly.

Brittany broke away with the same blazing look in her eyes. Without any words at all, Santana understood all that was coursing through Brittany in that moment and she thought she had never hated herself more.

Puck grunted in the way Santana had learned to recognize as the signal that he was in need of release. He eased back the covers and guided the two girls to the center of the bed. He coaxed Santana into a kneeling position and backed Brittany up against her.

Santana's stomach lurched as she finally comprehended what he had in mind. She was to help hold Brittany aloft, to kiss and caress her while he finally sought his satisfaction.

Was the room shaking, or was that merely her vision?

It took everything Santana had to gulp in mouthfuls of air and keep oxygen flowing to her brain. She held onto Brittany tightly but it was more for her balance than for her friend's. When Puck began to move steadily, Brittany was thrust back against Santana's body time and again.

Santana thought she was going to be sick. As the pace increased, so did her panic. Finally, the last of her resolve snapped and Santana coaxed Brittany into Puck's arms before she hastily climbed off the bed and left the room.

Reaching the bathroom was nearly impossible. Santana crashed against furniture and the doorframe before she finally stumbled onto the cool linoleum and collapsed to her knees. Dry heaves wracked her frame while she clutched the toilet and sobbed.

Her tears ran warmly down her cheeks and fell into the basin. Shoulders, knees, fingers – all were shaking so hard that Santana could only cling to the bowl and pray it would pass. The minutes stretched on for hours and she felt certain she would die until footsteps padded into the bathroom. When she realized it was Brittany, Santana's grip slipped and she fell to the floor.

Brittany kicked the door shut and pulled the other girl into her lap. Santana clung to her so tightly that her short fingernails left pinpricks of blood on the backs of her friend's arms.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Please forgive me. I'm so sorry," Santana wailed over and over. Brittany simply rocked her and kissed her hair, shushing Santana gently while her fingers traced comforting patterns across the weeping girl's back.

Santana hiccupped and buried her face in the crook of Brittany's neck.

"It's my fault. It's all my fault," Santana murmured tremulously.

"I went along with it," Brittany whispered back with tears sliding down her own cheeks.

Santana shook her head vehemently. She held Brittany's face in her hands and looked her directly in the eye.

"You only did this to save me. Well, no more. I won't take you down with me. Never again."

… … …

Quinn carefully slid her arms into the straps of her backpack and held her head high. For the rest of the Glee Club, the 'funk' they were currently experiencing was a new sensation; for her, it was an everyday state of being.

Her rage still bubbled beneath the surface at the fact that Mercedes had made it clear in Glee that day that she thought Quinn was incapable of pulling off the funk numbers they had been assigned for the week. If anyone was imbued with the spirit of that musical genre, Quinn felt certain it was herself. Now she was on a mission to prove to them all that she was right.

A few mild student interrogations had given her the information necessary to find the help she needed. There was an unofficial club, the Unwed Mothership Connection, that would have the fellow sufferers she knew could sympathize. Its president was a very petite and very heavily pregnant brunette named Mackenzie.

Quinn was told she could find this girl seated in the football bleachers at the end of the school day, so that's where she went the minute she had gathered her things from her locker after the final bell.

Mackenzie, Quinn learned, was a mix of curious contradictions. Her childlike eyes and brightly colored maternity clothes suggested a youthful personality but, when she spoke, there was a toughness and grit earned only by a series of hardships.

"Are you lost?" she called to Quinn when she spotted her lingering at the bottom of the bleachers.

"No," Quinn replied and ascended the stairs. "Actually, I was looking for you."

"Looks like you succeeded. You found me." Mackenzie smiled lazily. "Although I've gotta say I'm not sure what you'd need me for."

"I need backup singers."

"For what?" Mackenzie queried guardedly.

"I want to perform a number to express how difficult it is to be pregnant as a teenager. How alternately ignored and reviled we are. Only I can't really get the point across without more voices to add to my own. I'm going to need your entire committee."

"I'm listening," Mackenzie acknowledged and leaned back against the bleacher bench behind her.

"Well, I couldn't offer you guys payment or anything. I have to keep my money to help take care of this baby until it's due, but I could maybe order us a few pizzas while we rehearse tonight."

"We're definitely not ones to turn down free food," Mackenzie joked with a throaty laugh. "Time and place?"

"Do you know the shelters in the park?" Quinn asked. "The ones near the lake where the ducks are?"

"Yeah, I've seen 'em."

"We'll meet up there at five o'clock. Can you round up the others by then?"

"I've got them all on speed dial," Mackenzie replied. "Them and a Quiznos where the delivery boy foots the bill 'cause he thinks I'm cute."

Quinn giggled and extended her hand.

"Well, thank you for agreeing to help me. I really appreciate it."

Mackenzie shook her hand and nodded.

"No problem. Maybe, if this number of yours gets me up and moving, the dam will finally break. I swear, if this kid makes me any bigger, I'm gonna pop."

… … …

"What's the buzz, Bumble Bee?"

Brittany smiled at her father's familiar nickname and hopped onto the stool under the window in the garage.

"I'm scared."

"Did you hear those footsteps in the upstairs hall again? I think that's just Lord T., sweetie. He's been packing on the pounds and he's starting to make the boards creak."

Brittany laughed.

"No, it's not that."

"Then what's on your mind?" Mr. Pierce prompted kindly while he examined his handiwork on a new birdhouse.

"The cheerleaders are all worried we're going to lose our chance at scholarships."

"You guys are champs. I'm sure you'll all have plenty of opportunities by the time graduation rolls around," Mr. Pierce said confidently.

"It's just that Coach Sylvester is in a funk, just like how the Glee Club has been. Practices have been cancelled and we're all really lost," Brittany explained. "And… I know some of them could maybe get into schools some other way… but not me, Dad. I really need one."

Mr. Pierce set the birdhouse aside and dragged his wheeled chair over to sit in front of his daughter. His blue eyes met hers and he scratched the scruffy brown stubble that had begun to grow on his chin.

"There is so much you can do, honey," he said. "You have so many talents. Cheerleading is just one of them. If that door shuts, there'll be a dozen windows still open."

"Like what?" Brittany asked tentatively.

"Like dancing, or singing, or art, or journalism – any given one of those could give you the scholarship you need to pursue a higher education, if that's what you want to do after you leave McKinley."

"The big art schools would actually want me?" Brittany marveled. "You really think so?"

"I know so," Mr. Pierce replied.

Brittany beamed and swung her legs excitedly back and forth.

"So, how's your friend been doing lately? Quinn. She's going to be due any time now, right? How's the end of pregnancy treating her?"

"I think she'll be a lot better now that she isn't going to be living with Puck," Brittany said. "Mercedes invited Quinn to live with her family now. Things will be a bit easier without baby daddy drama."

Mr. Pierce nodded and grabbed a rag to wipe the paint off his calloused hands.

"How's our Santana?"

Brittany blanched and licked her lips. Tempted as she was to divulge all that had been plaguing her mind on the matter, she opted for truth in its utmost simplicity.

"Santana is Santana, same as always."

… … …

Quinn gathered the last of her few belongings into the duffel bag and zipped it closed.

"That's everything," she announced aloud.

"Do you need Noah to help you carry it to the car?" Mrs. Puckerman asked. "You shouldn't be doing any heavy lifting this far along."

"Yes, please," Quinn said gratefully.

Puck heard the conversation from the chair in which he had been brooding all morning. He rose and accepted the bag without a word, hefting the strap onto his shoulder before stepping outside to take it to the Jones family's van.

Quinn murmured her thanks and then turned back to Mrs. Puckerman.

"I wanted to speak to you," Quinn confided. "In private, while Puck is outside."

Mrs. Puckerman nodded curtly and folded her arms.

"I'm sorry," Quinn apologized sincerely. "I let myself get pregnant by your son; I shut him out and tried to pretend my boyfriend was the one who had done it, and then I intruded on your hospitality when I had to leave the Hudsons' after the truth came out about my baby's father. It's no wonder you hate me."

For the first time since Quinn had arrived in that house, she saw Mrs. Puckerman's features soften.

"I don't hate you. Hate is not something I do. Do I wish Puck could have stayed with that nice Jewish girl? Yes, but a mother's dreams and her child's reality are often two different things. I'm sure you'll learn that someday, although I suspect you have already," Mrs. Puckerman surmised.

Quinn draped her arm protectively over her abdomen and nodded.

"I know living with us has not been a picnic for you," Mrs. Puckerman acknowledged. "In a time when you're already facing enough adversity, you had me to contend with every day."

Quinn mumbled polite objections to the blame the other woman was placing on herself, even though what she was saying was true.

"I had a lot of anger and disappointment when I learned that Noah had fathered a child," Mrs. Puckerman admitted. "I believe I took that out on you. I owe you an apology."

Again, Quinn tried to dismiss this claim, but Mrs. Puckerman waved it away.

"Good luck to you," she said sincerely. "Even though you won't be raising this baby, I know you'll still need it."

Quinn stared back at Mrs. Puckerman and her lip began to quiver. She scarcely stifled a sob as she darted forward and threw her arms around the other woman. When she felt the hug being returned, her tears began to fall freely.

Puck came in to find both his mother and the mother of his child weeping and laughing in each other's arms. He blinked slowly and his brow furrowed. Then he shrugged and sidestepped them both as he walked deeper into the house.

"I'm gonna be upstairs."

… … …

Brittany closed her locker heavily and leaned back against it with a frown. It was the Monday before Regionals and, despite the fact that the Cheerios were back in action and had won the National championship and the New Directions had managed to intimidate Vocal Adrenaline enough to at least somewhat level the playing field, everyone else's funk had lifted but hers. Though she knew the reason why, she was not expecting one of the contributing factors to round the corner just as she was dwelling on the subject.

"Hey," Puck greeted awkwardly.

"Hi," Brittany said back, arms immediately crossing over her chest.

"Listen, I want to talk to you," he began slowly.

"I'd rather not," Brittany murmured.

"About that Saturday night…"

Brittany felt panic rise up in her throat and she turned away, taking long strides to distance herself from him. Puck did not catch up, but instead called out loudly enough that she could hear even from a distance.

"I know why she left."

Though it was a relatively vague statement, it froze Brittany in her tracks. Reluctantly, she returned to where she had stood and waited for him to continue.

"Why Santana bolted and went to the bathroom," Puck elaborated in a low voice, his eyes scanning the hallway to ensure that no one was listening.

"She wasn't into it," Brittany shrugged evasively.

"Yeah, I got that, but I also know why," Puck replied.

Brittany looked fearfully into his eyes and waited.

"The secret," Puck whispered.

Brittany's ears were ringing and she was beginning to breathe sharply through her nose.

"I know she thinks it's all hush-hush, but she can't hide it from me," Puck continued. "We've known each other too long and too well for that crap."

"Please don't," Brittany beseeched him.

"It's okay," Puck said. "Nobody's gonna hear it from me. I know I didn't give her the kind of relationship she wanted but, believe it or not, I do care what happens to her. And I know I'm not the only one."

He leveled a knowing gaze on her. Brittany did not argue.

"She deserves a shot at being happy, something I sure as hell never knew how to make her," Puck decided. "So, I've been thinking we should wipe the slate clean. Let's just pretend that Saturday never happened, and you won't have to worry about any more trouble from me."

Brittany's expression was dubious. Puck sighed.

"Look, I don't know what kind of stuff Santana's been telling you over the years, but I'm not always a complete asshole."

Brittany scarcely stifled a snort.

"We can treat the guest room like Vegas," Puck suggested. "What happened there stays there."

He hocked a wad of spit onto his palm and held it out to her.

"So, truce? For Santana?"

Brittany wrinkled her nose at the glistening circle on his skin.

"C'mon," Puck goaded. "Do it."

Brittany spat discretely on her palm and shook his hand.

"Cool," Puck smiled.

He patted Brittany's shoulder bracingly, as though encouraging a comrade-in-arms – Santana's two defenders.

"She's bitchy and batshit crazy, but you hold the number one spot on her good list. You always have."

Puck gave Brittany a parting nod and strolled off down the hall. Brittany watched him go while rubbing her hand clean against her skirt. In spite of herself, now that he was gone, she allowed her lips to tug up into a small and grateful smile.

… … …

Regionals had arrived. The New Directions' usual jitters had returned by a hundredfold, knowing as they did that they would be facing Vocal Adrenaline and that the judges – which included, of all people, Coach Sue Sylvester - were not in their favor. All the same, with the Journey medley that Mr. Schuester had helped them prepare, they had a strong set list that they knew could please the rest of the audience.

Quinn felt the now-familiar rush of standing under the lights and hearing the roar of the crowd. Even though her sister had been unable to attend, calling that very same afternoon with an apologetic cancellation, the thunderous applause of countless strangers still lifted Quinn's spirits. The club felt better than ever before, more commanding of the stage and more powerful than they had previously exhibited. Though their choreography was not as complex as it could be if they had all been trained dancers, it still possessed a joie de vivre that those seated in the house found immediately contagious.

When the performance had concluded, Quinn followed the others backstage with a nervous but irrepressible grin spreading across her face. Then she heard a voice that cut straight to the bone.

"Quinnie!"

"Mom," Quinn said with a small sputter of disbelief. "What are you doing here? Is Dad okay?"

"I came to hear you sing," Judy explained and gave her a radiant smile. "You were wonderful."

Quinn couldn't believe what she was hearing. She glanced over her shoulder while her mother continued to speak. More than anything, she suddenly wished she was back in the green room with the others and that this wasn't happening. The conversation felt too surreal and she didn't trust it at all.

"I left your father," Judy announced abruptly. "Well, I-I kicked him out, actually. He was having an affair with some, uh, tattooed freak."

Quinn had to clench her jaw to contain an outburst. After the hell she had endured, after all his fiery speeches on morality, this was the secret her father had been harboring? A grievous fault of his own that he could conveniently overlook while condemning the rest of his family with a mighty hand and a booming voice? It was too much.

"Quinnie, I want you to come home with me," Judy said softly. "I can turn the guest room into a nursery."

Quinn's mouth had forgotten how to speak. A surge of muddled emotions rushed through her entire body. However, alarm and disbelief rose up above all the rest at what she felt next.

"My water just broke."

… … …

Pain.

Pain unlike anything she had ever known. It exploded through every part of Quinn's body and left her shouting at anyone who came into her line of sight as she pushed endlessly. Puck, Mercedes, and her mother were all with her in the delivery room, but none of them were able to calm the mix of rage and anguish that made Quinn snarl like a wounded animal.

"Frannie!" she sobbed pitifully. "I want Frannie."

"I-I'll give the number to someone. I'll have them call her," Judy stammered. "I don't want to leave you, baby."

Quinn howled and clamped her eyes shut. Silently, in the small corner of her mind that wasn't consumed by agony, she mentally begged her sister from afar.

_Please get here soon._

… … …

They had lost the Regionals competition. In fact, they had not even placed. The consolation trophy looked almost insultingly small as Mr. Schuester accepted it from one of the stagehands.

Santana could not believe it. After all they had faced just to make this performance happen – hell, they had even briefly left the building to be present when Quinn gave birth – and now they had nothing to show for their tenacity.

When they had all returned from the competition, Santana drove immediately to Brittany's house. She found Brittany already waiting there, swaying on the porch swing and gazing up at the broken wind chime that was hung from the corner of the awning. One of its four chimes had fallen off over the course of the winter and been lost somewhere in the yard, buried beneath the snow.

Santana sat down beside her and matched the bending of her legs in time with Brittany's, swinging idly and saying nothing.

"This sucks," she finally groused aloud.

Brittany laughed quietly.

"I knew you'd be disappointed."

"Hell yes, I am!" Santana ranted. "It was rigged! There's no way those hoity-toity Aural Intensity assholes were better than us. We should have at least nabbed runner-up."

Brittany nodded her agreement but did not appear remotely enraged.

"How is this not bothering you?" Santana asked incredulously.

"Because I know that, no matter what, we gave it our all," Brittany replied. "Besides, I think we got one important thing from today even without a trophy."

"What was that?"

"We found out what you were missing. We discovered what your true passion is."

Santana sat blinking uncertainly and then looked away.

"You're a singer, Santana," Brittany told her. "A star. Every bit as much as Rachel is, even if you haven't had the chance to show it."

"Yeah, well, it doesn't matter," Santana grumbled. "It's all about who you know in that business anyway and, living in this godforsaken middle of nowhere, I don't stand a chance."

"I think you do," Brittany said.

Santana turned back to her friend and bit her lip, wanting so desperately to believe.

"You were so happy up there," Brittany recalled with a smile. "So bright and at home and alive. I haven't seen you shine so brightly since…"

Her voice trailed off and she twiddled her thumbs in her lap.

"Since Tony was here," Santana finished for her.

Brittany nodded.

"You're right," Santana said softly. "I felt the best that I had in a really, really long time."

"Then you shouldn't let it go," Brittany stated definitively.

"What about you?" Santana asked self-consciously in an attempt to change the subject. "Have you found what makes you complete?"

Brittany gazed at her intently even though Santana was once again looking down and clicking the heels of her shoes together.

"Yes."

"And?"

"And I'll do whatever it takes. I'm not letting go."

… … …

Quinn stood before the glass, looking through at the tiny baby swaddled there, for what must have been the dozenth time. She had walked out with so many people – various members of the New Directions, her mother, Puck – now she was with Frannie.

"She's a little angel," Frannie whispered. "A replica of you in miniature."

Quinn laughed quietly.

"Yeah, everybody says she looks like me."

"You're still going to put her up for adoption?" Frannie verified.

"Yes," Quinn replied. "But not to the woman I planned in the beginning."

"I've missed a lot," Frannie concluded. "Here, come on. You don't need to be on your feet so much. We'll get you back in bed and then we can catch up on everything."

She gave her slumbering niece a final wave and led Quinn to her room.

"So, where is she going? Who's going to raise her?" Frannie asked once her sister was comfortably settled against the pillows.

"Do you remember the girl who sings the solos in my Glee Club?"

Frannie nodded a confirmation.

"It's her biological mother."

"Wait," Frannie clarified. "So your baby is going to be your classmate's adopted sister?"

"No. Well, not exactly. Rachel will still be living with her dads. Shelby doesn't have custody of her. So, Shelby is Rachel's birth mom and Beth's adoptive mother."

"Beth?" Frannie questioned.

Quinn blushed.

"Puck gave her the name. I know it was hard for him to let her go. This seemed like the one gift I could give him."

Frannie nodded and patted her sister's hand.

"I'm sure that means the world to him. It's a way for a part of him to be with her even if he can't be present physically."

"I hope so," Quinn agreed. "He, um, he said he loves me, and I know from the look in his eyes that he loves our baby girl. I just hope I haven't ruined his dreams, you know? I got really lucky that I can still have a future. I want him to have that chance, too."

"He'll get through it," Frannie said. "Both of you will."

Quinn turned her head to look at her sister more directly.

"I'm not the only one with news to share. Something happened to you today. Whatever it was lasted long enough that you missed all the excitement," Quinn pointed out gently, trying to laugh. "What was it?"

Frannie sat back and ran her hands through her hair. When she lifted her eyes to look at her sister again, she seemed unspeakably exhausted.

"Thomas and I had a talk."

"A fight, you mean."

Frannie shook her head.

"It was more of a discussion, really. It was a long one, but we needed to cover a lot of ground and get everything out in the open."

"Are you guys unhappy?" Quinn asked. It was a suspicion she'd had for quite some time.

"_I've_ been unhappy," Frannie confessed. "Thomas has been a saint. He knew I didn't love him or, rather, that I wasn't _in_ love with him and yet he's stood by me all this time. You saw; he even let me take my frustrations at Dad out on him."

Quinn's eyebrows knitted together.

"I don't understand. Why did you marry him, then?"

"He was Dad's choice," Frannie answered. "He pushed the issue pretty heavily. His business partner's son – in his mind, nothing could be more fortuitous or more beneficial to the good of the company."

"But, Frannie, that's Dickensian," Quinn protested. "Why didn't you say no?"

Frannie hid her face in her hands. Her shoulders began to shake and it was as though her palms were the only things holding her up and preventing her from collapsing to the floor.

"I didn't care where I ended up anymore."

Quinn tried to touch Frannie's knee, but the chair was just far enough from the bed to keep her sister out of reach.

"You were depressed?"

"Beyond that," Frannie answered. "To be depressed, you have to still be able to feel. I'd lost the ability to connect with anything. I was hollow."

Quinn couldn't bear to see her sibling looking so wretched. This was Frannie – the strong one, her rock, her shelter. She scooted aside on the hospital bed and cleared her throat.

"There's room for two."

Frannie cast a glance at the door as though she expected a doctor to swoop in and reprimand her, but she accepted her little sister's offer. Quinn held Frannie's hand and waited for her to regain enough composure to speak again.

"What hurt you so badly?"

"Well… um…Thomas wasn't the only person I dated."

Quinn thought for a moment.

"I don't remember any other boys. What was his name?"

Frannie's expression was grave as she faced Quinn and looked her in the eye.

"That's because there aren't any boys to remember."

Quinn began to understand and her mouth hung slightly agape.

"Her name was Alisha."

A few tears slid down Frannie's face and she clung to Quinn's hand with both of hers as if she feared that her sister might pull away.

"Why did it end?"

"We got caught. Mom found out about us and she talked to Dad. You know as well as I do that Dad doesn't allow fault in anyone but himself. To him, being in love with a girl was more than just a fault. I was an embarrassment, an abnormality, a freak. He behaved as though a member of the circus had escaped and was masquerading as his child."

"So what did he do to you?" Quinn asked fearfully.

"He told me he would kick me out if I didn't give her up. I was only seventeen; I didn't have the money to support myself. Lish's family, well, they had three boys as well as her; they couldn't afford another mouth to feed," Frannie recalled sadly. "Then Dad started keeping constant tabs on where I was. I was no longer allowed to drive myself to or from school. Mom picked me up. I couldn't go to any parties unless they knew the parents and had confirmed they could keep an eye on me. He took my cell phone, monitored my Internet access, the works. I couldn't carry on with her even in secret. In the end, he didn't even allow me to make the choice."

Quinn rested her cheek against Frannie's shoulder.

"Senior year, seeing her in the halls, it destroyed me. Lish was heartbroken. I tried to tell her I would wait, that we could try again when I was finally able to make my own income and move, but she didn't want me to lose my family. Especially you. She knew I loved you most of all."

Quinn began to cry, too.

"She didn't – You didn't lose her just because of me, did you?"

"No, honey, it's not like that," Frannie promised. "You're not to blame. Alisha was right. You didn't deserve to be left alone in that house."

"What happened to her? Alisha?" Quinn asked.

"That's the thing. After graduation, I didn't know. She disappeared. I thought I'd never see her again. With all this time that's passed, I assumed she was married by now, maybe even had kids," Frannie said. "Then I had a catering job where I saw this guy sitting off by himself reading a newspaper. I could see that flaming red hair even from where I stood behind the buffet table. After the event was over, the man left his paper behind. I swung by the table and picked it up. There she was, my Alisha. She's writing for the Chicago Tribune."

"Wait… That money you were saving… The money you gave to me… You were going to go find her," Quinn realized. "I have a little left; I can give it back."

"It's all right," Frannie waved dismissively. "I've saved up enough again. Thomas and I parted amicably. Neither of us harbors any ill will for the other. We're going to finalize our divorce and then I'm going to Chicago. I'm going to try to get her back."

Quinn hugged Frannie's arm and kissed her shoulder.

"Good luck."

Frannie laughed a little.

"Thanks. I'm gonna need it."

She looked at the clock on the wall and climbed back off the bed.

"Well, I'd better get going. You need your sleep," Frannie said as she kissed Quinn's forehead. "Call me when you get home."

"I will," Quinn promised.

Frannie pulled her purse's strap onto her shoulder.

"Thank you for supporting me," she said softly. "About Alisha. A-about being gay. I know it's a lot to take in."

"I love you no matter what," Quinn answered sincerely. "And I know you'd do the same for me."


End file.
